Between the Lines: Sequel to Somewhere Between
by TresMaxwell
Summary: The apocalypse may be coming sooner than expected, but at what cost? HB/John, rated for language, adult situations, and sexual content. COMPLETE
1. Revelation 15:1

Genre: Hellboy

Warning: Yaoi or Slash, if you don't know what the word means, then you need to leave…

Pairing: Hellboy/John Meyers

Rating: M- For lots of man on man sex, violence, language, the works.

Feedback: Yes please! The more feedback I get, the faster I usually work because I get inspired.

I actually thought of this sequel almost immediately after finishing the first story, but I didn't have the time to work on it. If ya'll like the beginning, let me know so I can keep working on it.

It's from first person, like Somewhere Between.

Also, I now have a beta, the lovely gbheart! My mistakes are my own as I type too fast and don't proof-read very well :P.

_I saw in heaven another great and marvelous sign: seven angels with the seven last plagues—last, because with them God's wrath is completed. ~Revelation 15:1  
_

- John

I'll be seventy-four next week. Seventy-four, it's quite a number. I thought I'd be retired and living in Florida by the time I got this old… or dead, but there are a lot of twists my life took that I wasn't expecting. Lycanthropy was definitely one of those twists. I was told from the first day the virus hit my bloodstream that things would be pretty different for the rest of my life. That could have been one of the biggest understatements of the century.

I'm almost seventy-four and I only have a dozen gray hairs, which my partner frequently points out since he doesn't have ANY. I guess it's a plus that I don't have more of those, or wrinkles. Most people that I quiz think I'm forty, tops. The average answer drops in at about thirty-five and lycanthropy should keep me this way for a while.

I'm hoping this birthday will pass without so much as a whimper, and I'm praying that our current project will keep my lover's mind off of making a fuss over it. Not that he ever makes a fuss; it's more of a mocking that's taken many different shapes over the years.

Speak of the devil, his voice chirps from my ear bud, "You see anything yet?"

"You're my eyes in the sky baby, what do you see?"

"A hell of a lot of nothing, but your ass looks good in those jeans."

I roll my eyes skyward and catch a brief glimpse of Hellboy before he moves to the other side of the roof, "You can't find the target if you're staring at me."

"I'm multi-tasking."

Another voice cuts into our discussion; it's calm, cool, and calculating, "I hate to interrupt, but I believe I've spotted the target. It's heading eastbound on 96th street, just south of your position."

"We're on it Blue," I answer and dart down the nearest side street. Above my head, I can hear Hellboy jumping from roof to roof. The street we go by next is a little wider than the others are and I catch a loud, "Oh crap!" that doesn't make it to my earpiece, followed by a thud.

I don't change my route, just click on my communicator, "You okay, big guy?"

He grunts, probably as he's getting to his feet, "Yeah, but I'll be sore in the morning."

I can't stop my smile from spreading, "Aren't you always?"

Before I get an answer from him, I slide out onto 96th and take aim at the hippocampus barreling down the road. It's a shape-changing beast that's also known as a capri or water-horse. I'm not sure what the extent of its shape-changing entails, but it's currently in the form of a massive black horse. Its hooves are sparking on the concrete as it charges towards me. I focus on its fiery blue eyes and squeeze the trigger.

The first bullet grazes its shoulder, extracting a horrid screech, and the second punches a hole through its left ear. Considering I was aiming for the heart and head, they weren't great shots. The hippocampus bolts for a nearby storm drain to get out of my line of fire, its body morphing into a smaller shape so it'll fit.

I get to it just as its tail disappears, "Shit, it's in the sewer." My radio crackles with silence, "Did anybody hear me?"

"I heard you," it comes from behind me and I turn to see HB come out from an alleyway. He's rubbing his shoulder with a wince that means he landed pretty hard. "Blue, we're headed underground," HB grunts into his microphone.

"I'll be there soon."

I snag Red's arm and slide my hand around the back of his neck, my fingers tangling in the hair at the base of his head. My lips brush against his, our tongues dueling briefly before I step away, "Love you." He hums contently as his stone hand slides down my back. I twist out of his grasp before he can grab my ass. I know him too well for that, "Oh, I don't think so. We've got a capri to take down."

When I turn to find the nearest manhole cover, his mouth descends on my neck, "You started it."

"If you have your way, we're going to lose it," I warn.

Red drops his hands with a frown, "Alright, but you owe me later."

I point at the manhole in the middle of the street, but don't need to voice what I want. HB yanks the heavy lid off, the disgusting stench of the under-city hitting me almost instantly. I'm never really ready for that smell. He drops into the opening without hesitation, like usual, but I hang back a second, "How the hell do we always end up in the sewer?"

"Come on, Boyscout," HB calls.

I lean over the sewer opening, trying not to breathe, "You really wouldn't be so gung-ho if you could smell what I do."

There's a long pause and I'm starting to think he's managed to wander off without me hearing him, then he answers, "Trust me, I smell it… I can do this without you." There's a trace of sarcasm, or maybe exasperation in his voice. I'm sure he get's tired of me complaining every time we have to chase something through a sewer.

I sigh and take one last gasp of fresh air before I climb into New York's underbelly. The hot air wraps around me, creeping into my nose before I can even take a breath. I won't describe it, I'd prefer not to, but I barely manage to keep from gagging.

The slightest concern crosses Red's face, but a joke comes out of his mouth, "You know, you wouldn't have this problem if you were a stay-at-home wife."

I don't really feel like arguing with him, so I shoot him a firm 'shut up' glare. It's not very effective. He smiles, clicks on his flashlight, and I drop back a few steps to stay out of the beam.

Over the sounds of HB and me sloshing through the knee-deep mystery fluid, I can only catch the occasional squeak of rats and dripping from the various drains and pipes that empty into these tunnels. There's nothing from our target.

I wish my nose wasn't so damn useless down here. This thing has the upper hand in a situation like this. No matter what the liquid, a hippocampus can use it to hide and kill. I don't want it sneaking up on us.

We pass about the third tunnel in less than a minute and I call in backup because HB won't, "Blue, we're going to need a map of this area or we're going to get real lost real fast."

"I have it in my hand, John, and am getting close to your location. Please remind Red not to shoot me just because I am a moving object."

I glance down at HB's hand, curled so close to the handle of the Samaritan. He really is trigger-happy. "Blue's coming our way. He wanted me to remind you not to shoot at him."

"Jeez, does he have to bring that up every time we go out? He surprised me, that wasn't my fault," my demon grumbles.

"You could have killed him."

"The shot hit the wall, didn't even come close to him."

"He's just lucky you don't have better aim."

"You better watch it Boyscout, or I'll take you over my knee."

I smile, "Is that a promise?" I know he's still wound up from earlier and I'm just adding insult to injury, but it's too much fun teasing him. Of course, if I'm not careful, he won't wait until later. I've learned that from experience.

He shoots a glare over his shoulder that says tonight will be rough and wild. I'm looking forward to it. In the meantime, I try to focus on the business at hand.

"I am moving towards you from the west," Blue warns. The echoing sounds of sloshing reached me just before his transmission, so I knew he had to be getting close.

I touch Red's arm, "Blue's coming in on our left."

"Got it."

Abe's got a map open before him, his hand ghosting over it slowly while he thinks. There are two newbie agents in his wake. One is staring at the water in disgust and the other has his starched shirt pulled over his nose. I'm sure the senior agents threw their weight around and sent to new recruits on our sewer run so they wouldn't have to get their shoes dirty. I'll have to gripe at them later. We could have used some agents who knew what the hell a hippocampus looks like.

I address the newbies first, hoping to give them some kind of edge in the fight that's coming, "You see anything down here you shoot first and ask questions later. A capri can change shape, so you need to be on your toes."

They both nod stupidly like a couple of bobble-heads that've been bumped. I don't glance over when I feel HB's breath on my ear, "You always tell me to put the questions first."

"Yeah, but you have a tendency to shoot at teammates," I whisper back and continue down the tunnel.

Red doesn't move for a minute; I can imagine the look on his face, "One time!" He sloshes after me, grumbling quietly. Before he brings his light back up, he makes sure to take the lead again to keep from blinding me. HB's well aware that when it's this dark, light pretty much ruins my night vision. Plus, it gave him a chance to take a grab at my ass as he went by. Perv.

My wolf ears catch the agents whispering behind us. I try not to listen, but they may as well be shouting at me. Clearly no one warned them about my heightened senses, "I've heard the others saying that they're lovers."

"What, who? Red and Green?"

My anger peaks instantly. There's disgust in the second voice. I'm mildly tempted to let him get eaten, but I know I won't.

"I hear he used to be an agent before he got infected…"

Seriously, is this gossip hour? I'm thankful that Red can't hear them because the new agents would both end up with broken noses if he could. But I'm not going to keep listening to this crap, "Cut the chatter back there, and keep your eyes peeled. Blue, what have you got for us?"

I keep scanning the narrow tunnel, my eyes straying frequently to the water. I'm waiting to spot a flick of tail beneath the surface, or a flash of teeth.

"There seems to be a large pump room coming up approximately a hundred yards ahead of us. It would be a likely place for the hippocampus to hide, it will favor the deeper water there," Blue says easily.

I decided a long time ago that Abe might not be capable of fear. No matter the situation, he always seems to keep his head on straight.

Red checks his rounds, "Do we have to worry about his thing not going down with regular bullets?"

I don't pay attention to the answer. There was a tiny splash down a smaller feeder tunnel we just passed. I pause to listen intently while the rest of the team moves around me. Blue's got one of his books out and is searching for the capri's weakness, so he doesn't notice that I've stopped. The two agents give me strange expressions as they go by, but don't ask.

As their sloshing steps begin to fade, I catch another splash and what sounds suspiciously like a moan. I curl my fingers around the handle of my gun before I go investigate. HB will be pissed that I didn't tell him I was wandering off, but I don't want to drag the whole group down here if it's just a couple rats fighting.

"John?" Red's voice is a little faint, muffled by the growing sound of trickling water.

I make sure to yell loud enough so he can hear me, "I'm fine, Red."

When I spot a small vent dumping more unspeakable fluid into the cesspool I'm standing in, I figure that's what I was hearing. The tunnel keeps going, but I don't see anything out of the ordinary.

I turn to head back to the others and almost run into someone. My pulse leaps into a sprint, my gun coming up instantly, but the man in front of me is babbling like he's terrified (or insane), "You have to help me! It was here! It tried… it tried to…"

He's not one of our agents and his presence in the sewer is weird at best. Against my better judgment, I lower my gun, "Sir, how did you get down here?" I do a quick visual sweep for injuries, noting the blood running down his shoulder, and immediately have another question for him, "And why are you naked?"

He doesn't answer me; instead, he grabs my shoulders and shakes me, "It tried to eat me!"

I'm trying to figure out how to tactfully remove his grip on me without breaking numerous bones in his body when his expression changes. The fear melts away to reveal several rows of very sharp teeth and I realize that I should have shot him immediately. Way too late, I spot the hole I put in his ear not ten minutes earlier.

"Oh crap."

His eyes flash bright blue and I barely manage to scream half of my mate's name before the capri drags me under.

I should have listened to my own damn advice.

The hippocampus changes shape beneath me, the torso growing longer and wider, his face lengthening until his nose practically comes to rest against mine. Its claws sink deeper into my shoulders, sending streaks of fire down my body. My scream comes out as air pockets.

Since my gun is useless underwater, I drop it and try to push out of the creature's hold. As soon as my hands touch its skin, I understand what Abe meant during our brief that 'once a capri has a hold of you, you can not escape.' Its skin is like glue. The more I push against the thick flesh, the more it seems to tighten its grip on me. The hands on my shoulders are gone, having become hooves, but I still can't break away.

My lungs start to ache from the lack of oxygen. I hate dealing with water monsters! I've nearly drowned on far too many occasions for my liking. I'm sure Red's not too thrilled about it either.

The hippocampus powers its way through the sewer, me in helpless tow. We go over a waterfall and I manage to get a gasp of air before we're submerged again. I have no way of telling how far it has dragged me, but it's time to take things into my own hands.

I settle my panicked mind and call my wolf to me. Fur ripples down my body first, followed by the sensation of my muscles tightening to near breaking point. Every fiber in my being stills, ready for the wolf to take control.

A sharp and overwhelming pain shatters my change, snapping me back into human mind so quickly that it leaves me numb. I exhale the last of my air when I realize that the flesh the creature is chewing on is mine. The already foggy water is becoming thick with blood. Even with gills, I don't know how this thing can stay alive in such corrupted liquid.

My head is spinning wildly. I swim for the surface, but I'm not going anywhere. That can't be good. The world has taken on this bizarre, muffled texture, like all of my senses are stuffed with cotton. I know the feeling means I'll pass out soon, but whether from blood-loss or a lack of oxygen I can't be sure.

A hand clamps down around my arm and rips me free of the hippocampus and out of the water. I suck in lungfulls of beautiful, but still rank air, hacking and sputtering until I can get enough of it. The Samaritan goes off right next to my ear, unloading every round it's got. That ear will be ringing for the next several weeks, but I really couldn't care less right now.

When my sight finally begins to clear up from all the ammonia it endured, I take in the capri's floating corpse and Hellboy examining my wounds with a bit of concern, "You alive?"

"Yeah, I'm good. Nothing that won't heal," I croak between coughing spells.

Coming down the tunnel behind Red are Abe and the other agents. One of them decides to be a smart ass. Not his best decision.

"What happened to shoot first, old-timer? You never got a shot off."

Old-timer?

HB opens his mouth, but I can defend myself from this twat. I get disentangled from my mate, cross the now hip-deep water, and grab the new agent by his nicely pressed suit, "It's three days to the full moon, I lost my gun, I'm covered in god-knows-what, and am bleeding from a number of bite marks. If you really want to push me, now is NOT THE TIME!"

The agent cowers in my grip, barely able to squeak a response of 'yes sir'. I shouldn't get so pissed off, since the kid was just trying to joke around, but my mood's pretty foul. I even growl slightly when HB moves in to break things up.

"Hey, let him go, Boyscout," Red gives me a look and I release the agent's collar. He immediately scampers out of my reach.

HB pulls me to him, but I growl again. I really just don't want to be touched, or cuddled, or coddled. I just want to go home. It only takes a few soft words and caresses before I melt into a more pliant state, drooping against Red's side. I guess I can't help it. Doesn't matter how ticked I am, he always knows how to bring my temper under control. It's funny what brings his gentle side out.

"Well, now that it's dead, I suppose I should bring up a concern."

Every eye turns to Blue.

"Don't tell me that thing looks like it laid eggs recently," HB grumps, rather sarcastically.

Blue waves his hands dismissively, "No, nothing like that. There are eight known breeds of hippocampus but all of them derive from Europe."

"So," Red prods.

"So, someone would have had to transport one of these creatures here."

It's hard enough to transport the BPRD somewhere without looking suspicious; the idea that someone could have brought this thing overseas is a little hard to stomach. "Couldn't it have swum here?" I ask, glancing down at the floating corpse. It's already starting to smell, but my nose is pretty dead at this point.

"No. A hippocampus will avoid salt-water at all costs. I would like to take him back to base to study. I might be able to find out who brought him."

Red's tail curls and wriggles in the water, it means he's agitated. If I didn't know better, I would've thought it was a snake.

"I am NOT carrying that thing all the way to the surface." He tosses his thumb towards the agents, "Make dumb and dee here handle it."

Even with how ticked I am at the newbies, I know they can't carry that thing, "Red, it probably weighs half a ton. I doubt they can handle it." As the words leave my mouth, I realize that I'll end up carrying the other half.

And I do, and it's just as freaking heavy as I thought it would be. We ride home with the hippocampus lying belly up on the floor. I was certain it had already bled out, but it manages to leak even more acrid-smelling blood all over the garbage truck before we get back to base. All I can do is pull my feet up into my chair so it doesn't get all over my shoes. They may be covered in sewer fluid, but at least that's washable.

I'm thankful to leave the capri with Blue, not in the least bit curious about what he might find out about it.

By the time I drag myself into the room HB and I share, I'm ready to just fall into bed and be done with it, except I'm still rancid. I stand in the doorway, staring at the bed with longing until Red gently nudges me, "Come on Boyscout, let's grab a shower."

I sort of grunt in response, not tearing my eyes off the bed. I guess that wasn't the answer he was looking for, because his hands slide beneath my shirt and peel it off. A shudder passes through me. It doesn't really matter how long or how many times we've been together, I still get, for lack of a better word, giddy.

We'll be celebrating the golden anniversary in a few years, but things really haven't slowed down any. We haven't exactly slowed down either. It helps that we're aging like molasses that's been frozen. Well, he ages like frozen molasses, I age more like cold molasses.

Baking materials and age vanish from my mind when his flesh hand goes down the front of my pants.

"Stop thinking so damn hard," HB teases me, grabbing my dick and squeezing. "You don't need to be thinking to do this."

But, as great as that feels, I'm still gross and he doesn't tend to stop once he gets too far down the 'let's screw' path. "Shower first," I say as I pull his hand out of my pants, heading into the bathroom.

"Why do you always have to be clean before we do it?"

I sigh and shove my sticky jeans down my legs, "I don't, except when I'm covered in all manner of unspeakable nastiness. How can you think about sex when you and I both smell like a sewer?"

HB pauses to throw his jacket, shirt, and belt on the floor before he answers with a shrug, "I think about it all the time, so why not?"

Even in the midst of our mini-argument, I can't help but stop and stare at his upper body. My eyes roam over the ripples of muscle, drinking them in. I love watching those muscles dance while we're having sex, watching them tense and release while HB pounds into me.

I'm almost tempted to just do it now. Almost.

"Shower…" I mumble stupidly, tripping out of the leg-holes of my pants and nearly colliding with the edge of the counter.

HB grabs me before I can crack my skull against anything, "You drunk?"

"I've never been drunk a day in my life and you know it," I grump, turning the shower on.

A smile breaks out on his face, "Yeah, I know. Then that's just the effect I have on you, eh Boyscout?"

Smart ass, even if what he says is true.

"Maybe I'm just tired," I quip back, sloughing off my underwear and stepping into the water. The warmth smoothes out my agitation easily. I hear the shower door close behind me and the rough stone of Red's right hand curls around my hip; the other hand goes to work with a soap bar on my back. "You don't have to wash me."

Once a section of my skin is clean, he presses his lips to it, "Nope, but I want to."

It doesn't take long for his hands to stray from cleaning to something a little more provocative. Fingers graze down my spine and into my cleft. I shudder, despite my overwhelming desire to be rid of the sewer fluid. Although, I guess I'm clean enough.

"Now?" the question ghosts across my ear as one of his fingers slips inside me.

There's not much arguing with him. I drop back against HB, my head falling on his shoulder, "Yeah, now." I feel his smile against my skin.

Red grabs the bottle of lube we keep in the shower (yes, we keep lube in the shower… it's hidden in almost every room of the Bureau) and squeezes some out on his flesh hand. He cusses softly, I can only assume it's because he got too much. No matter how careful he tries to be with his stone hand, he can't always control his strength, especially not when he's worked up.

"Too much?" I tease him, leaning forward onto the cool tile when he goes back to preparing me.

"Half the damn tube came out," he grumbles and drops what's left of the tube on the shower floor.

Red's thick fingers work inside me, brushing and teasing all the spots he knows drive me insane. I press my forehead against the wall, a whimper rolling past my clenched teeth. His mouth brushes down my spine, his tongue and lips wandering into position to replace his fingers. A shudder wracks my body as his tongue pushes through my entrance.

"Y-you know," I start, but my mind sinks into the thick fog of pleasure. It takes a few moments before I can finish the thought. "I didn't figure out – oh Red, again – figure out why anyone would need flavored lube until you – uh – started doing that."

HB chuckles and I can feel him smirk as he withdraws his tongue. "Mmm, strawberries and John's ass," he says, with a mix of amusement and mild jesting, and climbs back to his feet.

I ignore the comment. Actually, I really don't have anything to say in response, because HB pushes his thick, perfect cock into me in one quick move. I howl as sensations rip up my spine.

The wolf strains in the back of my mind, responding to HB, responding to our connection. I hold it back, like always. Little things leak through though, no matter how hard I push against the raging animal.

As HB assumes his usual pace, my fingernails lengthen and thicken against the tile, the sharp edges gouging the glaze off the bright red surface. There are hundreds of similar marks all across the wall and, when I'm not adding to them, my claws find their way into Red's back. I always feel bad about it, but he never complains.

Far from it, in fact.

Sometimes, I think he intentionally strives to wake up the wolf, to stir it into a frenzy, for whatever reason. It's always harder for me to control when the full moon is close.

While I don't follow the cycle of the moon, like werewolves in movies and books are prone to do, it does affect my behavior. During the handful of days leading up to the full moon, I get more aggressive, more confrontational, and have the insane urge to hunt everything that moves. The day itself… well, let's just say that it's best if we have an assignment to keep me busy.

Red once linked it to PMS and promptly got smacked for it.

Heat begins to pool deep in my guts while my lower extremities ache with need. The want for release crawls down my spine and grips my muscles until they're taught and trembling. I focus on the water streaming down my back in warm rivulets, to keep the wolf at bay, to keep my orgasm at bay. It's still too early in the night for either.

The water is starting to get cold.

In one smooth motion, Red pulls out of me, cranks off the water, turns me around, picks me up, and continues. I can't help but laugh at how well practiced he is. The hot water never lasts through one of our sessions, and yet the shower is one of our most frequented spots (next to the big, overstuffed chair Red ordered after we broke the couch).

His lips fall on my neck and shoulder while he shifts my hips to find the right position. It only takes a stroke or two before I growl at the ceiling, white-hot pleasure wiping my mind of everything.

"There it is," Hellboy breathes against my throat and picks up his pace.

I squeeze his waist with my legs, feeling the ridges of his ribs inside my thighs. It's about the only warning I can give him in my current state. Though my whimpering should be a dead giveaway.

Stone caresses my back while flesh moves down to handle my throbbing erection. It doesn't take much coaxing for me to fall over the edge, shooting on HB's hand, his stomach, his chest. Before the white fades from my vision, Red's roaring his first release too and I feel the hot cum coat my insides.

My mate's head drops onto my shoulder for a moment while we catch our breath. He places an open-mouthed kiss just below my ear, murmuring, "Hell yeah."

All I can do is pant back, "Agreed."

We repeat the session on the bathroom counter, the wall of our bedroom, and finally in the bed itself before I succumb to exhaustion.

- HB

Can't sleep, never can after 'Scout has a close call. I watch him for a couple hours, all the usual uncertainties flying around my head like a swarm of demon birds: what if I hadn't made it in time, what if I can't save him next time, what if… Fuckin' what ifs drive me up the wall.

Most assignments, 'Scout handles himself fine, but its days like this that make me want to lock him in our room before I leave. Don't get me wrong, he's a great help on missions, what with his awesome sense of smell and his ability to get four-legged and chase things down at ridiculous speeds, but I'm getting damn tired of losing people I care about.

When Liz went, it broke my hea… I'm not that mushy, but it did hurt like hell and I'm not ready to repeat that… especially not with 'Scout.

I gotta' stop thinkin'.

TV sounds good, but it'll wake John up, even if it's muted. Wish we could go back to a time when he slept like a rock, but those days are long gone. I'm going to blame his wolf ears for that one.

About the only thing I can think of to do that's not going to bother 'Scout is to go for a walk, so I slide out of bed. 'Scout stirs a little and searches the sheets with his hands, his brow scrunching up. Even asleep, he notices when I'm gone.

I push my pillow at him to give him something to cuddle and hike some pants on. The pillow probably only works 'cause it smells like me. I used a clean one once and he woke up the instant he curled up with it.

The concerned slope to John's brow smoothes as he gets settled with my replacement. I stand for a minute and just look at him. Slowly, I run my fingers through his speckled hair, lingering on the grey pieces. I don't like the grey… grey means he's getting old and I still haven't shown any signs of heading over that mortal age crest that separates prime from downhill.

It's just the grey though. The squirt still has that boyish face that get's him out of a lot of trouble. Not a wrinkle in sight, except when he smiles. He get's teeny-tiny crow's feet at the corners of his eyes when he smiles.

A cat leaps down onto my shoulder, breaking the moment pretty effectively. I give the tabby a quick scratch and set him down on the bed. He curls up near 'Scout's back. It took about three generations of cats living in the same room with him before they got used to him smelling like a big-ass, canine predator. Now, I don't think they can tell the difference.

I slip out into the bureau, shooing a few cats back with my foot before I can close the door. This late, the halls are dead, nobody awake but the skeleton crew of guards that are in charge of the nightshift.

I pass by one of them and we exchange nods. It's one of the guards I see pretty frequently; I think his name is Jones. Nice guy, got three kids and a bombshell wife, from what he's told me. Good at cards too. I would sit and play some Texas Hold 'Em with him, but I have a different destination in mind.

Abe should still be working on the capri and probably will be until tomorrow afternoon. Once you set the fish man on something, he won't quit. Just as I expected, the lights are still on in the lab. I come around the corner to find Abe bent over an ancient bestiary.

There are a handful of other books open around him. His fingers are darting from one book to another, making connections at a rapid rate. You would think that he was so absorbed that he wouldn't notice me come in, but I know better. It only takes a second before he addresses me.

"You know, John has been working for the bureau forty-eight years without any permanent harm. I don't see why you're still losing sleep when he scrapes through a situation."

"Yeah well, he's not your mate."

"True, but he is a werewolf and you don't give him enough credit," Abe scolds and waggles a finger at me.

I roll my eyes and lean over to see what he's working on, muttering under my breath, "How do you always end up sounding like my mom?"

It only takes me a second to make the connection between the books; the same symbol is on all of the pages in front of him. It consists of several archaic letters inscribed in a circle. I've seen it before, but I can't place where just yet.

Let's face it, I've seen way to many signs and symbols over the years to remember all of them.

"So what's all this got to do with stinky over there?" I motion at the capri, flayed open on the metal table. 'Scout's right, that thing does reek. I can smell the damn thing from here.

Abe picks up the covers of one of his books, sliding a Petri dish out from under it. There's a piece of skin in the dish; I can only assume that it's from the shape shifter. The emblem Abe's researching is burned into the skin.

"This was on the capri's neck, just behind its ear."

"It's a brand. So who does this ugly bastard belong to?" I ask, picking up the hunk of flesh. It's starting to dry out and it actually cracks a little between my fingers. I drop it back in the glass.

"The symbol is associated with an ancient being known as Demegov. There is not much about him in any of these books, just references to events that are less than pleasant. If he was involved with any of them, we could be looking at a very major problem."

That doesn't sound good. "How major?"

Abe hums slightly, waving his hands slowly over the various books while he thinks. If he has to think that hard, I probably don't want to hear the answer. "As bad as that ether demon that took over the west coast."

Fuck.

"Well, maybe worse."

Can't think of a worse word than fuck, but I could use one about now. "What kind of events are we talking about here, Blue?" I ask as I try to quell some of the uneasiness that's rising.

Abe grabs one book in particular that I know is more of a history book with all the supernatural bits that got left out of historian's modern day view of the past. "Well," he pauses, flipping through the pages delicately, "This is the mark that appeared on the door of the head church in Rome seven days before bubonic plaque hit Europe."

A light goes on in my head. I can remember exactly where I've seen the symbol before, "Demegov, sometimes considered to be Pestilence himself. Father told me about this guy a long time ago."

"That's him. His emblem has been seen before hundreds of major outbreaks, sometimes by psychics, other times it's burned onto objects in the affected area," Abe confirms, showing me a photograph of a wall in an African hospital taken days before the first case of AIDS was diagnosed.

I look back over at the capri, asking again, "So how does stinky fit into all of this? Demegov doesn't use these things to infect people, does he?"

"It is a possibility, but most anything it was carrying would require direct contact or a bite for transfer."

My stomach drops somewhere into my lower intestines. I spent most of the ride back from our mission watching a large bite wound on 'Scout's shoulder heal over. If that thing has something, it's a sure bet that he gave it to John.

Abe speaks up, reading my thoughts, "Lycanthropy won't allow another disease to live within John, you know that by now."

"Yeah, but this ain't exactly the common cold. I want you to test stinky, find out what he's got. And-"

"I've already had a biohazard team scrub out the garbage truck and sanitize the hallway we brought the capri down. That should minimize any spread of the contagion."

I don't say anything about him reading my thoughts. It's almost welcome in a crisis, since it saves time. Instead, I head for the door, "I want to know as soon as you know. Got it, Blue?"

"I got it, Red."

I practically run back to my room, even though John was fine when I left him. I shouldn't panic. Abe's right, Lycanthropy is an extremely aggressive virus that kills anything else that enters its host. John hasn't gotten sick once since he was infected (with the exception of when he was separated from me at the very beginning, but that wasn't a virus). But what if this is different?

It's a little funny. I can be in a fight with a God of Chaos and Destruction and not be slightly worried, even if I'm losing, but John get's a damn paper cut and I get all worked up. Abe says its love. I say that's freakin' cheesy… but I'm inclined to agree. At this point, Boyscout is so firmly rooted in my life that he'd leave a huge hole if something happened.

'Scout squirms a little as I come busting into our room, but it takes him a second to really wake up. "What's going on," he mutters groggily while I feel his forehead. He doesn't seem to have a fever, so I check his eyes. Fuck if I know what I'm looking for, but I figure I'd probably notice something weird.

John finally sits up and snags my flesh hand, asking more firmly, "What's going on?"

I'm about to answer when I see it forming in the pink scar tissue on John's shoulder, Demegov's emblem.

"Oh crap," is all I can think to say.

TBC...


	2. Daniel 4:32

_You will be driven away from people and will live like the wild animals.~Daniel 4:32  
_

- HB

I keep my eye on Boyscout over the next few days. After Abe's analysis of the capri came up with a mix of three different diseases, we've been watching John's every move for any sign of the possible symptoms. Besides annoying him, we don't get much result.

I should know better than to keep badgering him this close to the full moon (his patience shrinks from infinite to almost nothing), but I can't stop myself. I'm worried that he could drop dead from some ancient disease, so I'm pretty sure I'm allowed to pester him. Besides, he always coos over me when I get a particularly nasty injury. We'll just call this payback.

Despite him being grouchy as hell, there's one thing the full moon causes that I never complain about: 'Scout gets ridiculously horny. The days around the moon usually consist of us fucking like rabbits on aphrodisiacs.

It's a really weird balance – pissed one minute, lubed up and ready to go the next. I once had an agent ask how Boyscout's behavior doesn't make me crazy and my answer was pretty simple: "He puts up with enough of my quirks, so the least I can do is deal with a bad day or two." Besides, then there's the sex crazed thing again… really, REALLY can't complain about that.

This moon seems different though. John's a little quieter than he normally is. Quieter, but more agitated, like the dead silence before a big gunfight. And he's been scratching at that damn mark constantly.

I leave Abe to figure out what the hell it could mean, while I try to keep 'Scout from attacking an agent for looking at him the wrong way. Well, it might have been a little more than a look.

I didn't actually hear what the guy said, but when I come into the room, two agents are holding 'Scout back and the guy sitting on the floor is nursing a split lip and cussing up a storm. I recognize him as one of the newbies that was on the capri case with us yesterday.

The agent opens his mouth, probably to take a verbal jab at 'Scout while the others are keeping him at bay, but he chokes on whatever he was going to say when he spots me. The situation can't stop me from smirking at his wide-eyed stare.

"So, what's going on?"

My question gets everybody else's attention.

Nobody answers me, but John and I exchange looks. Decades into our relationship, it's pretty easy to have a conversation without words. I quirk my eyebrow, glancing at the agent on the floor then back to 'Scout, asking him what the guy did.

He looks down and away, either not wanting to get me involved, or still too ticked off to say. He yanks his arms away from the boys holding him and brushes against me on the way out the door.

I know what that means.

We have a habit of inadvertently touching, no matter where we're standing or what we're doing, but him going out of his way to come in contact with me usually says: 'Something's happened and I need comfort'.

I look back down at the jackass on the floor, then over at the interveners. Nobody's talkin'. The more I glare, the more they seem to be quaking in their boots, but I can't kick any real ass until I find out what happened. I've gotten in trouble for that before.

"You better watch yourself, 'cause your time here could be really fucking short," I warn, pointing an accusing finger at the agent on the floor. There's a little satisfaction in the fact that he flinches away like I moved to hit him.

I follow 'Scout out and find him waiting in the hallway. He's pacing angrily, his eyes glowing bright yellow. 'Scout's about a second and a half from changing, unless I do something now.

"Boyscout." The endearment doesn't do much, so I snag his waist and pull his body flush to mine. "John, calm down." It takes a second to work. Despite his initial attempt to squirm out of my hold, 'Scout wraps his fingers in my shirt and I feel the tension leak out of him.

He starts shaking then, confusing the hell out of me. I glance down at the top of his head, but he's buried his face in my chest and I can't see his expression. "'Scout, what's-"

"I would've killed him… if they hadn't… I would've," his voice is strangled and thin.

After Boyscout came back from England all those decades ago, he had his wolf under control. Except for the occasional incident around the full moon, he's stayed that way. He changes when he wants to, is still 'Scout when he's furry, and, for the most part, resists the temptation to chase squirrels and cars.

Reaching a breaking point because some asshole agent said something is not normal. Agents always talk; it's just the way things are. Not everybody is comfortable with 'Scout and me, and I was pretty sure 'Scout understood that. So why would he go nuts at something like this?

"Babe, what did he say?" I ask, giving him a small, comforting squeeze to try and entice an answer from him.

He sniffles a little (shit, is he crying? I never know what to do when John's crying) and turns his face so his cheek is resting against my pec. I'm relieved to see that there aren't any actual tears. "He told me that I was only part of the team because I was your bitch, pretty average crap for a trash-talker. I don't know why it made me so mad…"

I feel a white-hot rage starting to creep into the edges of my vision. "That's it! I'm going to kick his ass." No one gets away with shit like that. If a guy's going to work here, he's gotta' learn to keep his mouth shut and stay out of our business.

I'm headed back towards the site of the confrontation when I realize that 'Scout's pulling on my coat, literally getting dragged along behind me.

"Red, no! I've already split his lip open and knocked out one of his teeth; I think that's enough for today! Red!"

He's right, but I don't want him to be right. I've taken things too far once before, when an agent that was supposed to be watching 'Scout's back let him get hammered without calling in any backup. They had to take that guy out on a stretcher, and I got reprimanded with the threat that, if I did it again, they'd find someone else to do my job.

All I can say to them is good luck finding somebody to fill my shoes.

I sigh and turn to scoop Boyscout up, carrying him in one arm. There's another option, but it's not nearly as satisfying as beating the asshole agent into a bloody pulp: telling George.

General George Leonitus came into the position of the Bureau's director almost six years ago, after being transferred from Area 51 (a place I spent a lot of time as a kid). He made it pretty clear his first day here that he wouldn't put up with any agent showing a lack of respect to Abe, myself, or John. We were already well established as the lead dogs in the battle against the supernatural, but he wanted to make sure that EVERYBODY understood it. We were to be seen as the experts on base, not the freaks.

Since Andrews, he's been one of my favorite directors.

While I always feel like a damn little kid tattling to teacher 'cause I can't handle a bully myself, letting George handle shit like this lets me keep my position in the Bureau intact. Let's face it, I don't exactly have too many practical skills for surviving in the real world.

I'll tell him about the agent, but we're going to leave out the bit about John wanting to tear the guy's throat out. I think we need time to figure that out and it'll be a little easier to do that without a higher power breathing down our necks.

'Scout realizes my plan and starts squirming in my grip, "Set me down."

"Nope."

He shifts his arms up around my shoulders. Despite his argument, he doesn't seem all that inclined to actually get both feet on the ground, "But it doesn't look very professional when you're carrying me around." 'Scout settles his face against my neck, getting real quiet. I know he's thinking about what happened.

I push open the door to George's office, not bothering to knock. The guy's never doing anything but paperwork anyway, except George isn't alone when we come in. I set Boyscout down so we can both meet whoever this chick is. She's a busty blonde, a classic hottie, and I can already see the agents killing each other over her. Those tits are going to cause some serious bloodshed.

George gets up to motion at the woman, "I wasn't expecting you two yet, but, since you're here, this is Alexia Kamark. She's a folklore expert we're bringing into the team."

I feel 'Scout tense a little beside me. I could reassure him that I'm not going to run off after some blonde bimbo, but he already knows I'm not going anywhere. It's just his usual anxiety showing up. 'Scout worries too much… hell, like I have any right to say that.

Alexia comes over, holding out her hand to 'Scout first, then me. I take her tiny hand in my stone one carefully. I don't like to greet people this way, for obvious reasons.

"You must be the infamous Hellboy," she says, her accent making me think of Sweden.

"Yeah," before I can say much of anything else, she turns her attention back to 'Scout.

"And you're John Myers. I've heard that you're quite an agent," she practically purrs at him.

I'm going to have to get things straight with this lady immediately. 'Scout is mine. Period. End of discussion. I don't like anyone flirting with him, or batting their eyes at him, or pretending to be wounded after a mission so he'll carry them back to the truck out of the goodness of his big, but extremely oblivious, heart. Yes… that has happened and I had to lay down the rules for her too.

Maybe this is how he feels when he thinks somebody's caught my attention. Can't blame him I guess. It's hard to be with someone almost fifty-years and not be at least a little possessive.

She tucks her arm in 'Scout's and leads him out of George's office, asking him about his role in the bureau or some bullshit like that. I'm a second away from pulling John away from her and telling her where she can stick it, when George calls me back.

"Hellboy."

I groan, turning around to grumble at him, "George, she's flirting with my guy. I gotta go."

"It's General, Hellboy. I've earned the title; I'd really like to be called by it."

I roll my eyes. I'd need more than all my fingers and toes to count how many times he's told me that in the six years he's been here. "Yeah, yeah-"

"Besides, you know her efforts are falling on deaf ears," he states bluntly, shuffling some paperwork around on his desk. "What did you two come to see me about?"

I almost forgot about all that. "Oh, shit… what's that guy's name?" It's really hard to turn a guy in when you can't even remember his name. I know what he looks like, but the description will pretty much encompass every agent on base, 'dark hair, wears a suit and sunglasses a lot…' Helpful.

George starts throwing names out as he signs off on some document, "Agent Jenkins? Marke? Harkins?"

"No, no, this is one of the new guys. Came with us yesterday on the sewer run."

"That narrows it down to either Berkley or Mathers."

"Which one is kinda' short with a chip on his shoulder the size of a crater?"

"Berkley."

I would say that the name sounds familiar, but I stopped bothering to learn the names of any agent I saw on fewer than six cases. If they prove they can keep their asses out of the fire, their guns pointed in the right direction, stay useful and alive, then I'll learn their names. John would know if the name was right.

"You need to fire his ass."

- John

Alexia's nice, but dear god, her mouth is like a faucet someone forgot to turn off. I can't even think of the last time someone's talked at me this long. In a space of just a minute or so, I've learned about her entire career as a folklore expert, including the publishing of three critically acclaimed books.

I keep looking over my shoulder, hoping for HB to come charging after us like the possessive demon that he is. Except I think he got caught up in the general's office.

What Alexia had to say would be interesting, if she wasn't leaning so close to me while she talks. I'm not a huge stickler about personal space, I like being close to friends and family, but Alexia takes it a bit beyond an invasion on my space. The invasion is over; it's like she's claiming territory now. It's pressing on my last nerve, and, considering my earlier outburst, I'm really not inclined to let my wolf deal with things again.

I force a smile that can't look even remotely convincing and gently disengage my arm from hers, "Alexia, it's been lovely talking to you, but I have things I need to see to."

It sounds like baloney, even to me, but she seems to buy into it.

"Of course, I'm sure you're a very busy man, John. I'm looking forward to working with you."

I think I'd rather crawl back into New York's underbelly and drown, but I think that's the full moon talking.

"As am I." The lie still hanging in the air, I hurry off to find anything that'll make me look busy.

I end up in the library, peering around the door like a kid hiding from an angry mom. I know Abe's in the room because the faint scent of algae sits at the edge of my senses, but he still startles me a little when he speaks, "Not that it isn't lovely to see you, but I get the distinct feeling that you're not here to visit with me."

I shut the door and head over to the table Abe's working at, "No offense, I was just looking for a place to hide."

"None taken," he answers smoothly, flipping the pages of three separate books while he speaks. "You've met the new folklore expert."

I glance down at his books. They're texts and tomes, not very good for pleasure reading. I scan a few lines about plague before he turns the pages again; it breaks my curiosity for the time being.

"Yeah, and you?" It's kind of a useless question, since whether or not Abe's met Alexia, he'll know about her.

"Not yet."

"She's a bit… much. What is all this?" I forego explaining my situation in favor of Abe's research; it's just too interesting to ignore. How did he go from the capri attack to research on diseases? I must have missed something while I was sleeping. "Wait, is this why Red woke me up in the middle of the night?"

Abe pauses, his hands moving in uncertain jerks. His body language makes me very wary of his answer. "Have you looked in a mirror today, John?"

"What?" I get caught off guard a lot, I really do, but that was out of left field. It takes me a second before I can even process the question properly. When I think about it, I didn't look in the mirror this morning. I threw on some clothes and ran some gel into my hair, and walked out the door. The mirror's been a little disheartening lately, at least since the grey started showing up in my hair.

"You didn't."

"No, why?"

"Perhaps you should. The capri left a mark on you that looks something like this," he holds up a book, his thin fingers resting under an ancient symbol on the page.

I fiddle with the hem of my shirt, tempted to just pull it off and look for myself, but I resist the urge. "What's it mean?"

The hesitant movements freeze completely while he thinks.

Oh god… that means something really bad if he has to think that hard about it…

"Abe, what's it mean?"

He closes the book with the symbol and turns to me, his face troubled, "I don't know."

I grasp at a silver lining desperately, not wanting to think of the alternative, "But it might not mean anything, right? It could be old, residual magic that's been living in the capri…"

Abe doesn't say anything and my stomach twists sharply.

"Right? Abe?"

"I don't know, I really don't. The research I've done so far suggests that the mark on your shoulder is a very bad omen."

My legs give out, but there's no chair behind me and I end up on the floor. My head is spinning wildly. "What is it?" I whisper the question, not trusting my voice for more than that.

"It's the mark of a being known only as Demegov. I really can't tell you much beyond that." He crouches down in front of me and lowers his voice, "I'll keep working on it, John."

I absently rub at my shoulder, sliding my hand under the collar of my shirt to feel the mark. As soon as my fingers make contact with it, my skin begins to ache, and then to burn. I grit my teeth against the sensation. That can't be normal.

"Abe, it hurts," I hiss, trying to push the pain into the back of my mind. It's not working terribly well and I feel tears spring up at the corners of my eyes.

"That's strange, it shouldn't be painful. Let me see."

Pain lances down my arm as I reach to unbutton the top fastening. I barely manage to peel the shirt off my shoulder before the feeling is nearly unbearable. It's almost as bad as when the capri actually bit me, but I know that the wound healed over before we'd gotten home.

I dare a glance at the wound when Abe mutters, "That's certainly odd."

The mark is identical to the one Abe showed me a moment ago, expect it's on my SKIN and the bottom row of symbols is seeping blood. "Besides the obvious, why is it odd?" I manage to ask as the wracking pain begins to lessen.

"It looked like a scar before, but actually appears to be opening up now. It's almost like you're getting the wound in reverse," he muses, more to himself than to me.

I'm not sure why, but his aloofness really annoys me. I shove the rising anger beneath logic and try to ignore it. I have no reason to be mad at Abe. The full moon is just tugging at me, like usual. Although, it seems like even smaller things have been setting me off during this cycle than normal. Like that agent earlier… he may have been out of line, but I wanted to… I can't even finish the thought, it scares me too much.

"I would recommend that you just eat something, but I'm not actually sure if it would help considering the circumstances."

I blink at him, "You don't think it would help?"

There's a heavy tread coming down the hall and I don't need to turn around to know who's coming through the door. I look back at Red, desperately needing to be in his arms. This Demegov business has me scared shitless and I can't think of any better comfort than my massive, overprotective demon lover.

I don't have to say anything, he knows.

"Shit, what's going on now?" HB asks as he crosses the room, crouching down to scoop me up. I forgot I was on the floor…

Abe fills him in and I let him. I'd much rather bury my face in Red's chest. "The mark on John's shoulder seems to be getting worse. I'll have to do more research before I can tell you why."

Red's grip tightens slightly before he pulls me back and examines my shoulder. I growl a little. I don't want to be fussed over; I just want to be held. Red ignores my warning. When it comes to Red, I wouldn't back up the warning anyway and he knows it. I growl deeper in my throat when he brushes a finger against the bottom edge of the symbol. Fire spreads across my body from the point of contact.

"It hurts, don't touch it," I snap when the growling doesn't give him a clue. As soon as the words leave my mouth, I regret them. It's not like I'm going to hurt HB's feelings, I think he knows better than that by now, but I still feel bad for taking things out on him. "Sorry," I mutter.

"Don't worry about it, Boyscout." He brushes his lips along my jaw, completely eliminating my tension.

I drop my head back to his chest.

"Abe, I need you to figure out what the hell is going on. I'm going to take 'Scout back to our room and get him something to eat."

Red's voice rumbles through me like a lullaby. As I focus on the deep fluctuations of his tone, the words lose their meaning. It's only four in the afternoon, but I find myself starting to doze off in Hellboy's arms. Demegov and Agent Berkley fade from my thoughts, replaced by the steady, strong beat of Red's heart.

I rub my face against the thin fabric of his shirt and give in to sleep's alluring call.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

When I open my eyes, it's dark. It only takes seconds before my night-vision adjusts to the thick shadow and our den comes into focus. For a moment, I lie on my side and try to determine what woke me. I perk my ears and rotate them around slowly to pick up any sound or sign.

Everything is quiet, but not silent.

Beside me, my mate's breathing is the strong, slow rhythm of sleep. It must be late. Outside, I pick up the faint sound of one of the humans walking by the entrance of our den. Neither of those things would have woken me; they're normal sounds.

My stomach growls. Hunger is a possible culprit, it's woken me in the past, but it usually takes more than that. I sit up and take a second to scratch my shoulder before hopping off the bed. I'm not surprised that my mate doesn't stir as I get up. As powerful as he is, he doesn't have my heightened senses. He won't notice my absence until morning.

My mate's felines scatter as I cross the room, staying well out of my way. I've never eaten one, but I have been tempted so their fear is well founded. I suppose that it's the hunt itself that keeps me from chasing them. These pampered creatures would be too easy to catch and there's no sport in that.

The door to our den stands open a crack, letting me slip through unhindered. I hurry down the hall without making a sound. All the smells floating to my nostrils are familiar, none of it leading to edible things. I know the kitchens have packaged meat, but it doesn't appeal to me… it never really has. Nothing can beat tearing hunks of hot, still-quivering meat off a fresh kill.

I salivate at the thought.

No more packaged meat, not tonight at least. I NEED to hunt. I need the blood to ooze between my teeth, to hear the dying screams, to feel the body thrashing beneath my own in its last desperate struggle.

I prowl along the edge of the compound, searching every door and route I know. Nothing's open… there's no way out. My agitation mounts as I feel the walls of this underground cage descending on me. There's no fresh air to fill my nose, no wind to cool the rising heat in my fur and bring me new scents.

I sit down by one of the doors and take out my frustration on a persistent itch on my shoulder. It doesn't really help.

I could go back to the den and eat one of my mate's felines, but then he'll be angry with me. Nothing hurts worse than when he's angry at me, it's an ache so deep that I want to curl up and die. One of the humans would be better prey, except the humans in this underground cage are all like pack… all except a few of them. The new ones aren't pack, they infuriate me. They can be prey.

I start my hunt with my nose to the floor, running across hundreds of trails: pack member, mate, human with foul odor, fishy pack member, mate, feline, something sticky-sweet on the floor that I stop to lick up, the list goes on and on. It takes me a long time to find a trace from one of the new humans. It's the human I fought with earlier. I can still sense his fear in the air.

My hunger stirs, roaring with bloodlust. This time, there won't be anything stopping me from tearing his throat out. I follow his trail to the gym and out through the locker rooms, pausing to taste the old blood in the bottom of one of the sinks. There are paper-towels in the trashcan soaked in it too. The remnants of our fight make my fur stand on end.

It's not about food now; it's about finishing what I started.

I continue following the trail out into the base, but I lose him at the outer door to the bureau. He's outside. Rage overwhelms every thought, every sense. My hunt is ruined because I'm trapped in this underground hellhole!

I jump up and drag my claws down the door, getting my only satisfaction from the ugly marks I leave behind. I growl at the steel wall blocking the rest of my trail, pacing in front of it while I try to think of another way out. I've already exhausted my options. This place is locked up tight.

A completely new scent enters my nostrils: perfume. The perfume comes with the sharp click of high heels and the deeper odor of pheromones. I look down the hall at the approaching woman, the woman that doesn't understand my 'mated' status. I don't like her.

A warning growl rolls out of my throat as she gets closer, but it doesn't faze her. Her blood might be a good substitute, since I can't get to my prey. I bare my teeth at her… until she pulls out a card key.

I don't know what her game is, but I don't care. The moment the door's open, I'm back on my trail. I'll find my prey and I'll have my kill, one way or another.

TBC...


	3. Psalms 106:38

So, here's the usual 'oh my god, it took me so long to finish this chapter' stuff. Thing is, between the last chapter and this one, I finished classes, went to NYC, moved out of my apartment, found out I failed one class and can't graduate, and put together a portfolio so I can get an internship. Not to mention work, sleep, eating, yada yada… Hopefully I'll be able to do the next chapter more quickly.

_They shed innocent blood, the blood of their sons and daughters…~Psalms 106:38  
_

- John

Blood… why do I smell blood? I reach up to rub my face and freeze. There's something caked on my skin. I can't open my eyes. Whatever it is, it's in my eyelashes, gluing my eyelids shut. I rub at them furiously until I can peel them open.

Dear god, I'm covered in it. It's on my hands, on my face. I can taste the copper twang in my mouth. What have I killed?

I roll over and let a swell of nausea overwhelm me. The vomit is full of blood and bits of something, but I don't look close enough to figure out what. At this point, I don't want to know… I can't know what kind of monster I've become.

My mind is blank. I should remember being a wolf, but, as I wrack my memory, all I get is darkness. I've never had moon amnesia before, never. I've read about it in Dr. Andrew's books, but it's something that unstable rogues experience. It's the amnesia that keeps them semi-normal while they're human and it keeps them from thinking about the kill until they desperately need it again.

I'm not like that… I can't be.

A wretched, screaming howl rips from my throat before I can bite it back. It echoes across the pa- I'm outside, in a park. How did I get outside? I was so busy with the possibility that I've killed something that I didn't even notice that I was sitting in a park. I never should've gotten out of the bureau without opposable thumbs, let alone out and across town.

I have to get home.

Putting aside last night's uncertain activities, I roll to my feet and duck behind some thick brush in an attempt to stay out of sight. It's still very early, but that doesn't mean I won't get spotted by a jogger or somebody taking their dog out. I can only hope that someone didn't see me while I was sleeping.

I suppose that if someone had, the police would probably already be here, so maybe I'm in the clear. My stomach twists in and out of intricate loops, making me queasy again. I stop to empty the rest of it, not wanting anything from my atrocious night left in my system.

More blood hits the dirt. An image flashes to mind, the image of a figure clutching at his throat with arterial spray flying from between his fingers… I silently pray that it's my imagination and not a memory.

There's a fence lined with big shrubs along the edge of the park. I head that direction, taking refuge behind the foliage. There's no way I'll make it back to the bureau by ducking from one bush to another. I need to find somewhere I can get cleaned up and grab some clothes so I'm not wandering through New Jersey naked. I pick a yard and hop the fence.

There's someone in the kitchen, so I jump to the next yard. It takes me a few tries before I find an empty house. I peer inside the window, looking for an alarm. There's one on the wall at the end of the entryway, but I can see that it's not armed. An average person wouldn't be able to read the text from this distance, and I'm sure the security company that installed it never thought about a possibility like me.

I break the door's plate glass with my elbow. It hurts like hell, but it'll only take a few minutes to heal. As soon as I've got the lock disengaged, I hear the growling. It's a warning and a pretty deep growl considering that a Welsh corgi comes around the corner. He freezes when he spots me, his threatening stance melting instantly into submission. He knows I'm the bigger predator, even if I have no intention on hurting him.

"I'm sorry, I know it's your house," I mutter at him.

When he rolls over, I give his belly a scratch by way of apology and start my hunt for the bedrooms. A plethora of family pictures seem to glare at me from the wall as I pass by. I can't look at them. I don't want to know whose home I'm invading. There are four of them living here; I know that much from the lingering scents and I don't need faces to go with those scents.

I pass by a room that has the smell of fake strawberries and stickers all over the door. I don't need to look in to know a little girl lives there. Her unique odor wafts out on the air conditioned breeze, greeting me with hints of peanut butter and jelly and grape-flavored bubble gum. The whole room is sticky sweet and not what I'm looking for, I move on.

The next room reeks of old sweat and rotting food. I glance in out of curiosity. The floor is covered in dirty clothes and the walls scream with band posters. Teenager, gotta' be. It actually kind of reminds me of the way HB used to keep his room, before I started staying there. Old food containers peek out from under the papers on the desk, explaining the stomach-turning stench of rot. This kid needs some boundaries.

I find a master bedroom at the end of the hall. Unlike the kid's rooms, it's very clean and smells more like chemicals than people. The double doors on the far end of the room open into a bathroom, so that's where I head.

The first thing I need is a shower, I'll think about getting clothes after that. Their bathroom is all chrome and sterile surfaces. It doesn't even look like someone lives here. Except for a small handful of water stains on the glass shower door, there's not a trace of human beings in this place. One of the parents must be a clean freak.

I used to be that way, but after a few months in HB's room, I forgot all about the need to live in a perfectly clean room. I also learned that it's virtually impossible to keep his space tidy.

I don't know why I'm thinking about cleaning. Maybe it's shock. I'm trying to focus on anything but the glaring sign that I've killed someone. Once I'm in the shower, with the blood streaming down my skin in rivers, my actions come crashing down around me. My chest constricts as possibilities flood my mind. Even though I claw through my memories to find an answer, I can't remember what I've done. It could have been someone out late, a man, a mother, a child…

The idea that it could have been a child gives me a fresh swell of nausea. I dry heave uselessly, since there's nothing left in my stomach to toss. I gag on nothing but air. The nausea slowly passes and I press my forehead against the tile. I squeeze my eyes shut in an attempt to block out everything, but in the darkness, blood flies and screams echo loudly over the sound of the water.

My eyes snap open and a shiver rips down my body.

I need to go home, for answers, for comfort… Abe might be able to tell me what's going on. From there, we can try to fix it. I've never had a problem like this before, so surely it's a temporary thing. I don't want to imagine what would happen if this becomes permanent.

We might have to take desperate measures if it happens again. I won't be a threat to innocent people.

I grab the soap and scrub my skin until its red and raw, getting rid of every trace of blood. For some reason, Lady Macbeth comes to mind, 'Out, damn'd spot'. The thought makes me laugh hysterically, but it quickly deteriorates into tears. I curl up at the bottom of the shower, my body shaking with sobs that I can't seem to stop.

I don't know what to do. Part of me screams that I'm a threat, a danger to everyone around me, and I shouldn't go home. But another part knows full well that HB will never stop looking for me if I go missing. He wouldn't be able to let me go, even if I told him what was going on. I can't do that to him… and I don't think I could keep myself from going back to him anyway. Hiding from this isn't the answer.

Eventually, I manage to swallow my hysteria and go back to scouring my skin.

I shut the water off and, for a few minutes, I stand in the rapidly cooling air while I get my head on straight. I can't show up to the bureau a neurotic mess. It would alarm HB and alert everyone else to the fact that I'm falling apart. I need to be able to approach this situation rationally. After all, it's just something that needs fixing, not an irreversible crisis… I hope.

I step out of the shower with a plan to watch the news for hints of what I could have done while I was a wolf. I'll just keep praying that I killed someone's dog, or a deer, or anything but a person. With that in mind, I set out to find some clothes.

Rifling through the closet for something to wear proves a little more difficult than I anticipated. The man's side has more business suits than anything and I'm not going to take a several hundred dollar suit. I was hoping more for a pair of sweats or jeans.

I give up on the closet and go to the dresser against the far wall, where I have more luck. I yank on a pair of jeans that are several inches too long and wide for me, following it up with a massive undershirt. To makes things at least a little easier, I regrettably snag a belt as well. I check for logos or brands before I slip it through the belt loops, knowing that a man with suits this nice probably has expensive belts too. I don't do shoes because his shoes are several sizes too big, I'm just fine barefoot, and I think I've stolen enough of his stuff today.

I leave the way I came in, double checking the carpet in my path for traces of blood. Blood stains are something I wouldn't want to come home to, but I don't see any problems. I probably rubbed most of it off while I was walking around in the park.

As I pass the curb, I take a mental note of the address so I can send them some money for the clothes and window. The corgi is watching me leave, his short legs propped up on a sofa so he can see through the front window. I can't quite tell if he's relieved or upset to see me go. I smile slightly and he disappears through the curtain, so I'm thinking he's happy I'm gone.

It takes me almost twenty minutes to get oriented in this quiet town. I'm fairly certain that I didn't get as far as another state, but it's a possibility. A wolf can go hundreds of miles without stopping, though I can't figure out what would drive me out that far. I don't normally have any reason to leave home, let alone leave New Jersey.

I'm starting to consider asking for directions when I finally find a freeway that I recognize. Unless I'm next to New York, which I know I'm not, the only way to go is east. I set out towards home.

On foot (why didn't I take some shoes? I forgot how much glass ends up on the side of a freeway), the long walk is agonizing. I could borrow a phone and call the bureau for a pick up, but I'm not so sure I want to try and explain why I'm out this far. I'd rather sulk home with my tail between my legs, no matter how sore my feet are.

Unfortunately, the walk does give me time to think.

- HB

Boyscout's been missing all fucking day. I've looked in every room of the bureau, checked for his tracker (which was in our room), and even went as far as asking Abe to use his fancy front lobe to find him. Turns out he can't do that…

He did show me 'Scout getting out the door as a wolf. Weird thing was that there was a hole in his reading of the past. Somebody opened the door, but not even Abe can see who. It's all pretty fucking suspicious. I've never run into anybody that could block Abe's ability, so there's got to be more to this story than 'Scout escaping.

Somebody's pulling strings here and I'm going to find out who.

I grab my gear after Abe's mental show, intent on hunting 'Scout down. Problem is, I should've started looking for him hours ago. I slept 'till ten and looked for him inside until noon. 'Scout could've gotten pretty far in that much time.

Abe falls into step beside me as I make my way towards the garage, "Red, without his tracker, we don't really have a way to find him."

Logic. When I'm worried about John, I don't want much to do with logic.

"We'll find him the old fashioned way then, by looking," I grumble sarcastically. My tail is whipping from side to side 'cause I'm annoyed and worried. If 'Scout's gotten himself into trouble, I'm going to kick his fluffy ass.

"I can't just follow his trail. It would be a bit awkward if we were to wander around in the open while I try and get a reading on him. Besides, you know I need an object with a strong signature before I can see anything," he keeps talking because I'm not really listening. I think he's hoping that something will sink in.

"So we'll just have to think of where a werewolf might wander to and follow it up with places a naked, embarrassed 'Scout would go. Easy enough."

"That only narrows it down to every direction and every possible shrub and wall another dog could have marked. Not to mention any possible squirrels that came across his path…"

"Abe, shut up."

He sighs and doesn't say anything else. I can tell he's exasperated, but I don't really give a shit right now. I've gotta' find 'Scout. That kid's a trouble magnet and it's bad enough that he's been out all night. Knowing his luck, he probably got picked up by animal control and I'll have to bail him out of the pound. Or he wandered into a demon's nest because they had a 'free food' sign up.

Alright, he's gullible, but I've gotta' give him more credit than that.

My beeline for the truck stops when I see 'Scout creeping in the garage door. The relief I feel is probably a little more intense than I let on. "Where the hell have you been?" Great, first words out of my mouth make me sound more like his mom than his partner.

For a second, he just stares at me, but I begin to regret yelling at him when he get's that hurt puppy look. The look quickly degrades from 'hurt' to 'crushed'.

"Aw, come on 'Scout, you're killing me here. I was just worried," my attempts to patch the mistake crash and burn like the Hindenburg and I actually see tears coming to his eyes.

"He can't remember last night's events," Blue states quietly.

I glance over at him, my disbelief glaringly obvious. If my tone didn't give it away, I'm sure my sarcasm did, "If he has amnesia, how'd he remember the code to get in the garage?"

"It's not that kind of amnesia," the sheer level of fear in John's voice grabs my attention. Something happened, something bad.

"Boyscout?" I take a step towards him and John backs up until he's against the wall. I can't decide whether I should be mad or upset by that. I don't go with either. 'Scout is freaked out and getting pissed about it isn't going to help anything.

'Scout starts babbling about what he can remember, but very little of it makes sense, "And… I-I woke up… and all the blood… blood everywhere…"

I keep moving towards him, since he's out of space and I should be able to snag him, but the word "blood" stops me in my tracks. "Wait, blood? Did you get hurt?"

Abe is dead serious when he cuts in, more so than I think I've ever heard him before, "It wasn't his."

I process that for a moment. 'Scout can't have hurt somebody, it's not in him, but his aggression has gotten pretty bad the last few days. I want to know why.

"I think we need to call The Society and see if they can't find something in Andrews's old stuff."

Abe looks over at me with a shocked expression, "That was quite an insightful idea, Red."

"I have my moments," I quip back, not taking my eyes off 'Scout.

I haven't seen him so nervous since he first changed. Last time he got this worked up about the possibility that he was dangerous, he asked me to put him down for the greater good. That fact still bothers me. I know my lover extremely well and he's definitely one who will put anyone before himself. If it means a bullet to the brain to keep others safe, he'd do it without question.

No way am I going to let that happen.

I cross the last few feet between us and pull him to me. He resists a little, but there's not much fighting me.

"What if I hurt you?" He sort of sniffles the question against my chest.

Even though I know he's being serious, I have to laugh at the idea, "Come on 'Scout, it's me here."

Abe makes a comment on it as he's heading for the door, "No matter what mental state you're in, you wouldn't attack your own mate. I agree with Red, however, I believe we should get in contact with Eon and have her go through Andrews's old texts. He had more specialized material than I do, so maybe she can find something."

'Scout pushes away from me abruptly, "What if she can't? What if there isn't an answer and I'm just going feral? Maybe it was just a matter of time before I finally fucking snapped!"

Shit. He's already way beyond paranoid. "There's no way, John. Something's going on and we'll figure out what."

He sorta' slumps back against the wall and the tears start rolling. He seems exhausted, maybe emotionally, or maybe he just didn't sleep. Either way, he doesn't struggle when I scoop him up.

"It's going to be okay," I try not to sound uncertain, but truth is that I'm scared for him. If he is going feral, can we bring him back from that? Fuck if I know. All I can do is hope that Miss Brianiac can find us some answers.

I lay 'Scout on our bed and hesitate. He's staring at the ceiling blankly. Before I can say anything to him, Abe calls me from the door, "The system is up, it's waiting for you."

I do a quick visual sweep of the room to make sure there's nothing 'Scout could use to 'protect humanity from him'. My gun is holstered at my side and we keep the rest of the weapons in another part of the Bureau, so he should be fine.

I start for the door and change my mind, going back to kiss John's forehead, "I love you, kid."

His eyes finally turn away from the ceiling long enough for him to give me a broken smile. 'Scout winds his arm around my neck, whimpering quietly. It breaks my heart. We've got to figure something out quick, 'cause he won't last long like this.

"Kid, I gotta' go call Eon."

When he doesn't let go, I have to pull out of his hold. He just flops back onto the bed, going right back to staring into nothingness. I might have Abe try to read him later, figure out whether or not he's actually hurt someone. 'Scout would do a whole hell of a lot better if he knew exactly what happened last night.

I leave him regretfully, closing the door behind me. It crosses my mind to lock it, but I'm not sure whether it's for him, or for everyone else. This is insane. There is no way 'Scout would've just snapped after nearly fifty years of being a wolf. I know him, and I know that's not possible.

I don't lock the door… I just can't distrust him that far.

Abe makes a really crappy attempt at comforting me, "There is an answer, but we're too close to the situation to notice. What's the phrase, can't see the forest for the trees?"

"Yeah, sure," I dismiss him bluntly, not really wanting his counseling.

I assume that he picked up on my thoughts because he gets quiet and falls into step behind me. I never did get around to learning any sign language, so I need Abe to translate for Eon. Otherwise, I think I'd rather be left alone.

When my mood is shit, it's better if everybody keeps their distance.

"Except John, of course."

I glare at Abe and he finally catches the hint. He doesn't say anything else until the video chat window is dialing out to England. It takes several minutes for somebody to answer and I'm getting more agitated by the second. I don't sit down at the council; it's not like I can type anyway. Plus, it puts the computer a little closer to striking range and my current stress level doesn't make that a wise idea.

Abe breaks his silence when I'm about ready to tear the flashing monitor off the wall. "It is the middle of the night in Europe," he explains rationally.

I don't get a response out before the window flashes and shows a dark room. Muttering is filtering through the speaker, but I don't see anybody.

"How the hell… I know it comes on… stupid son of a…"

It has to be Lazarus. He never could get the hang of using anything modern. The guy has been around a hell of a lot longer than computers and micro chips, so I shouldn't fault him for it. I shouldn't, but it doesn't stop me from being annoyed.

"Hey, Crispy, it's on."

I see part of a shirt and then the top edge of his messy hair while he totally bypasses the camera.

"Hellboy? Can you see me?"

"Doesn't matter. I need to talk to Eon," I growl into the microphone.

"She's sleeping, everybody is. Could I-"

"Wake her up."

Lazarus finally manages to get centered in the camera and I can see that, if nothing else, my tone concerns him, "Is something going on?"

Unfortunately, I was trying to get across the fact that I'll find a way to come to England and kick his ass if he doesn't go get Eon, as opposed to 'oh dear, something's wrong'.

"Go get Eon!"

Abe sits down at the computer, blocking me out of the conversation.

"Hey," I snarl.

Abe ignores me and explains the situation, "We desperately need Eon's input on a matter concerning John. It would be greatly appreciated if you could go rouse her for us."

I don't see Lazarus's reaction, but I hear his "alright" clearly enough.

Abe turns in the chair, "If you clarify what you want-"

"I don't want to hear it, Blue."

I pace while we wait. It seems like half an eternity before Eon sits down at the computer. She's aged a lot since the first day I met her, going from a little girl, to a teenager with six different college degrees, to the new head of the bakery when the other guy died.

John keeps up with them better than I do, but I think she married Dr. Andrews's adopted son in her thirties (after he chased her forever). As far as I know, they never had any kids, but I haven't actually been at the Society's home base in fifteen years.

"John's got a major problem," is how I start.

- John

The smell of perfume jars me out of my thoughts. At first, I ignore it and continue to brood, but the scent doesn't fade. It's so sticky-sweet that it's almost gag worthy. It seems extremely familiar, but I can't place why. No women in the bureau come to mind when linked with the smell.

A vague memory flashes to mind, along with a powerful rage. I can remember a need to feel Berkley's life bleeding out from between my teeth. I wanted to tear him to ribbons and feast on his insides.

I shudder and try to shake the memory. I'm going feral; it's the only logical explanation for this. Cold fear takes root in my soul. But I thought I had to taste human flesh before I would attack people… I don't understand.

The door to the room clangs loudly as someone pulls it open. I sit bolt upright in the bed. I didn't hear Red's footsteps and the scent of perfume just intensified. I consider hiding for fear of what I might do to whoever's coming in, but the thought comes a little too late to put it in action.

Alexia comes in just as I leap to my feet. She looks uncertain, and maybe a little frightened, but she edges into the room anyway. Strange that she doesn't have the sharp stink of fear on her, but her body spray could be cutting into that.

"I heard about what happened."

My shoulder begins to ache slightly. I rub it while I process her words. As far as I thought, only Red and Abe knew about my recent escapades, but it would have been easy to overhear our conversation in any number of places.

She seems to lose her tentativeness and comes very close to me, definitely within the range of my claws.

My eyes stray to the smooth curve of her neck and the primal voice of my mind whispers that my fingers could wrap all the way around with ease. I push the idea out of my head so hard that I feel a chill crawl up my spine in its absence.

"John?" She calls my name like it's not the first time she's said it.

I snap my eyes back to Alexia's face, taking several steps away. "I'm sorry. You should go."

She closes the distance between us again, grabbing my arm, "But I know someone who can help you. He can re-teach your wolfen side, calm it down."

I've never heard more wonderful words in my life, but I can't keep the skepticism out of my voice, "Really? How far away is he?"

"He's based out of Manhattan."

Part of me screams that there's no way, the likelihood that someone could just 'tame' my wolf is infinitesimal, but the other side is desperately hoping that it's true.

What if it is?

"I don't know…" I start to try and dodge the offer, but Alexia reassures me instantly.

"He's an expert, and if he can't help you, what could it hurt to try?"

She gently pulls on my arm and I feel strangely at ease with the suggestion. She's right, what could it hurt? It's just a short trip into New York. All I can do is pray that I can keep my wolf under control until we get to this guy.

"I should tell Hellboy," I say softly, looking around for my shoes.

I'm still wearing the clothes I stole from that family's house… I need to change. I grab a fresh pair of jeans out of the closet and am heading for the dresser for a shirt when Alexia clears her throat. I glance over at her, knowing it's a sign she's going to say something.

"It might be better if you leave your mate out of it for now. You know he'll want to come with us and he really shouldn't show up at this man's office. It would just be something else that the bureau has to cover up."

She makes a good point, but it makes me uneasy.

"He almost always knows where I am. We both prefer it that way."

"Do you think you'll be able to convince him to stay behind?"

I take a second to chew on that while I slip into the bathroom to change. There's no way I'd be able to keep Hellboy at home. We've barely been separated since we became mates and I doubt a slim possibility that this meeting will fix things will be enough to convince him to stay out of it.

Out of the corner of my eye, I spot HB and my communicators sitting together on the counter. I snag mine and clip it to my belt, keeping it off for the time being. At the very least, he'll be able to find me if I do go nuts in the city. The tracker in the tiny device transmits no matter what.

I come out of the bathroom to find Alexia waiting anxiously.

She glances down at her watch and looks up at me with a smile, "If we hurry, we should be able to make it before his offices close."

"So, does he just run a werewolf taming business out of his offices, or what?" I ask, unable to keep my curiosity at bay. The picture I have in my head is probably a lot weirder than reality. This guy has got to have some kind of cover, just like the rest of us.

Alexia laughs, "No, nothing like that. His official title is a dog trainer, he turns out most of the animals that you see in movies and in the Broadway shows, but you wouldn't be the first werewolf he's taken on."

Great… a dog trainer. I'm almost insulted by that.

We pile into one of the bureau's Lincolns with Alexia behind the wheel. As we pull away from the base, I look back with uncertainty. I hope I'm making the right decision in leaving HB out of this, in going at all. If I'm not, things could spiral out of control in the blink of an eye.

My wolf pulses in the back of my head, and, for the first time in a long time, I wish I was human again.

TBC…

More of this chapter is from John's POV than I normally like to do, but I find it's a little necessary for his internal conflict. You'll get more HB in the next few.


	4. Lamentations 3:7

_He has walled me in so I cannot escape; he has weighed me down with chains.~Lamentations 3:7  
_

- HB

I leave the communications office in about the same way I came in: pissed off and worried. Eon will start going through Andrews's stuff, but she might not find anything useful for hours, or even days. Andrews was a meticulous note taker, so that means she's got a hell of a lot of crap to go through.

In the meantime, I'm thinking I should spend some time with 'Scout and try and talk him down off his mental ledge. The kid is just too worked up. He probably got out and killed somebody's cat and got it in his head that it was something a lot worse. Then again, I could just be in denial.

I think back to the agent from yesterday, the one John was about ready to kill when he called 'Scout my bitch. I don't think I've ever seen him so pissed before. If someone had messed with him while he was a wolf, it might have been enough to push him over the edge. It would have taken some serious prodding, but it is a possibility, a fuckin' scary possibility.

Eventually, we're going to have to bring Leonitus into this and I don't know what he'll do with John. He's not Manning, far from it, but 'Scout taking somebody's life isn't something he can ignore.

I can't say that I'll just stay on the sidelines while he passes judgment on my partner though. I'll probably have to stand between him and John… No matter what, I can't leave John on his own. But, if I'm against Leonitus, I'm against the bureau. Not the first time I've found myself in that position, but at least everybody else hated Manning too, that's not the case with the general.

If I have to, I'll take 'Scout and we'll leave. I don't know where the fuck we'll go, but I'm not going to let them put him down like some kind of dog. We'll find someplace. Maybe there's a group that takes in stray freaks… like The Society…

I stop as I round the corner. The door to our room is open and I KNOW I closed it. Subconsciously, my hand drops to the handle of the Samaritan. If that asshole agent is in there giving 'Scout trouble, I'm just going to shoot him and call it self-defense. Nobody will buy it, but it's better than John going off on him. John's already got enough trouble circling his head.

"'Scout?" I call as I enter the room. I don't get an answer. Nothing looks out of place, except for the fact that John's nowhere in sight. "Crap…"

I turn on my heel, heading back towards communications. I catch Abe halfway to the library, "Abe, John's gone."

Abe frowns slightly and offers, "Perhaps he's gone to get something from the kitchens."

I stare at him blankly. After all the panic, and the whole 'John could have killed someone' crisis, how is the kitchen the first thing that Blue thinks of?

"Because he could be hungry. He does eat like you do," Abe clarifies.

"Yeah, but he also doesn't eat much when something's bothering him." But there is that faint possibility that he's right. "Alright, I'm going to look around base. You check my room-"

"And see if I can find out where he's going. Yes, yes, I follow you," Abe finishes for me as he disappears down the hallway.

I do check the kitchen, but get little satisfaction from the fact that Abe is wrong. I would be smug, but I'm a little concerned that John is ripping somebody's guts out while I'm wandering around by the meat lockers.

I stop everyone I pass, asking if they've seen 'Scout in either form, but nobody has. By the time I'm walking back to my room, I'm cussing profusely under my breath. Abe looks up from a pair of jeans that are too big for 'Scout, but sure as hell aren't mine.

I wear leather or sweatpants and pretty much spend the rest of the time in the buff.

"He took them from a house in west New Jersey, felt badly about it, walked seven miles to get home."

He continues to dictate the memories attached to the pants and I have to cut in, "Skip forward a little, where'd he go ten minutes ago?"

"Well, clearly he didn't take these jeans with him, so…" Abe shrugs in response.

I kick a box across the floor, sending cats scattering in all directions, and shout, "Shit!"

"But he did take his tracker."

"You could have said that FIRST, Abe!" I gripe over my shoulder as I rush out the door.

I barely catch his reply of, "I was too busy trying to sort through all the memories of copulating this room has…"

- John

Alexia pulls the car over in front of a massive stone building that looks like it was built in the 1800's. I'm not an expert on appropriate business locales, but this looks nothing like a dog training facility.

The deeper I'm getting into this 'adventure', the less I trust it. But, the bureau never hires anyone without extensive background checks and I don't have any reason not to trust Alexia…

I sit in the car a minute, fighting between instinct and human nature, but Alexia waves at me from the building's steps. I reluctantly follow.

"So, this guy's rent must be sky-high in a building like this. What does he do again?" I ask, testing the waters for sharks.

Alexia doesn't turn when she answers, taking the stairs two at a time, "What's it matter as long as he can fix you?"

Alarms go off and I stop in my tracks, "What happened to 'he's a dog trainer'?"

Adrenaline pumps into my system, my impulse in this situation screaming for me to turn tail and run, but my curiosity keeps me rooted in place. She worked up quite an elaborate lie to get me out here and I want to know why.

Alexia opens the front door, sighing, "He's not a dog trainer, I just had to tell you something safe while we were at the bureau. He's an off-the-books paranormal expert who prefers to keep the government out of his business."

I come up a few of the steps, still far from convinced, "Why hide from them?"

Alexia disappears into the building and I find myself following just to hear the answer.

"If the bureau found out about him, they would try and integrate him into their circle of experts and his work would be limited to what they dictated."

Alexia's heels click loudly in the tiled entryway. The sound starts to distance itself from me while I stop to admire the elaborate art nouveau decorations. The polished pieces of glass and metal inlaid in the walls depict angels and demons locked in on oddly serene battle. I pause at what is clearly the centerpiece of the scene, four riders atop massive horses.

Alexia pulls me away and down a side hall, "You can look at all that later. He's not a very patient man."

"He's not patient and he doesn't want the government involved in his business – he's not sounding like a great guy," I state bluntly, HB's personality surfacing, like it usually does when I'm anxious or upset.

We come out of the narrow hallway in a room with high ceilings and a massive painting showing another battle, much like the one in the entryway. The room is heavily furnished with Victorian-style pieces, including an ornate fireplace big enough for a Catholic family to take a portrait in.

"I think I know why he doesn't want the government involved, he must make a ton of money off of…" I trail off when I notice Alexia's change in behavior. She's standing perfectly still with a vacant look you would see on a doll. It makes me very uneasy.

"Alexia?" I call, waving my hand in front of her face. I get nothing. She doesn't even blink.

A voice rings out across the room. It echoes and fills the space to the point that I can't determine its source, "Welcome John Thaddeus Myers, I was wondering when I might see you in my house."

I back towards the hallway we came through, fully intent on bolting, but I turn to find a very big man in my path. He grins at me, a smile riddled with yellow teeth and bad intentions. I realize a second later that his teeth are filed to sharp points. The effect is chilling.

"Who are you?" I all but stammer the words, shying away from the leering hulk of muscle. He doesn't smell human, which makes me more nervous than his teeth do.

I hear the voice again, but the man blocking my path doesn't speak, "He is Veldex, my right hand in most things. Pay him no mind."

I spin, searching the room for the speaker. Alexia still hasn't moved, so I pass her by. I finally spot a small man in an expensive suit standing by the fireplace. He doesn't look very imposing, barely an inch taller than me, but my wolf shrinks to the farthest reaches of my mind as though terrified. I've never felt it do anything like that before. The clarity it leaves behind is astounding.

I try again, "Who are you?"

The man turns towards me, his slick black hair shining in the light from the fire. His eyes emit a strange green glow and I don't need my sense of smell to know that he's not a man. He could be a demon of some kind, extremely high level to maintain such a perfect human form.

Before he answers me, he glances at Alexia, "You can go."

She walks out stiffly, like a marionette with a bad puppeteer. It makes me doubt that she was involved in this willingly, or even consciously.

"A wonderful woman, superb contacts and résumé as well. Your bureau didn't hesitate to bring her into its fold," the man in the suit comments.

As I watch her leave, my eyes catch on Veldex and he smiles again. I shudder and look away, "What do you want?"

"To meet you, John. You are a creature of the Abyss, and a fine specimen at that," he states, pausing to open a cabinet on the wall. "Would you like some brandy?"

"No, thank you," I shake my head. I can't process what he's telling me. "What's the Abyss?"

He eludes the questions and pours himself a glass of liquor, "I've been watching your activities for several days now. You're quite an animal." He adds the last sentence after he takes a long drink. I don't hear any sarcasm in it, but I feel like he's mocking me.

"Watching me? I live in a secret, underground government facility, how the hell are you…" He seems amused by my tirade, so I stop and circle around to my first question, "Who are you?"

The glow in his eyes flashes slightly and he sets his drink on a table held up by intricately carved wings. "I am known by many names, to be restricted to just one is a very human concept," he spits the word 'human' like it tastes foul in his mouth. "But you may know me as Demegov."

"You!" I can't stop the exclamation, it bursts out of me. "It was your capri that left the mark on my shoulder! All of this started when I first heard your name. What the hell did you do to me?" My anger quickly boils into rage. I can feel my teeth beginning to lengthen in tandem with my claws, my skin tingling with sprouting fur.

Demegov doesn't seem at all concerned by my outburst, far from it in fact. He calmly holds a hand out towards me (one that I seriously consider tearing off) and states, "That's quite enough of that."

Agony shreds the muscle in my shoulder, slamming my wolf down in the same way that the capri's bite did. I grip the searing flesh and hold back a scream. Just when I think I'll go mad from the pain, it dissipates.

I pant for a moment and look warily at Demegov. Clearly, his power over me is a lot stronger than I anticipated.

I've run into a lot of unique spells and hexes in this line of work, but nothing like what he's using. I should've taken Red's advice a long time ago to start carrying around wards. He's got so many different protection trinkets that his pockets jingle when he runs.

"I didn't do anything to you, my boy. The mark is simply a way for me to keep track of you and your exploits."

"And cripple me with pain," I bite out, backing away. I immediately run into something warm. The man by the door, I forgot about him. Thinking about that smile makes me leap away from him like his skin had burned me.

"Veldex, go back to the door. You're making him nervous."

I almost laugh at that statement, because EVERYTHING about this situation is making me nervous. Even from the entrance, I can see the horrid intentions in that thing's eyes.

I can only turn away when Demegov continues our discussion, "The pain is just an unpleasant side-effect, I'm afraid. One I haven't worked out just yet."

That's bullshit if I've ever heard it. The pain was WAY too convenient for him for it to be a simple side-effect. I keep my mouth shut though, in case he decides to use it again.

"Aren't you the least bit curious about what you were up to last night?" he asks the question as though he were asking about my coffee preference or what movie I'd like to see rather than my moon amnesia and the atrocities I've committed.

My head comes up instantly. "What do you know about it?"

He doesn't answer, this weird smirk playing at his lips. Instead, he snaps his fingers and people start filing into the room. "Take a look at your handiwork."

There are men and women alike, all with huge, ugly claw marks and bite marks on their faces, their arms, their torsos. They're wolves; the smell of Lycanthrope is heavy in the air.

"No, no, no, NO!" I scream.

It's not possible! I can't have attacked that many people. I'd be so far beyond madness, I'd be a monstrosity. I didn't even eat any of them, it wasn't hunting for the sake of a meal, I just attacked them!

I curl up with my back pressed against a wall, staring at the proof of my violence.

Demegov crouches to my level and whispers in my ear, "They need an alpha, John. You made them, you can control them."

I jerk away from him, not wanting believe any of this. But, if I was in such a craze, why didn't I kill anyone at the bureau? I look up at my supposed changelings, expecting to see fear or anger in their eyes, but there's nothing. They all have the same blank expression that Alexia had.

Slowly, I get to my feet, my mind racing. Demegov is still talking about taking control of the pack, but I ignore him. In one night, there's no way I could have attacked so many people without drawing some major attention.

There would've been a hunt going on for me. Every animal control unit in New Jersey should've been on my ass, but I woke up in the park undisturbed. Even if I'd gotten away from them that area should've been crawling with police and animal control.

I move towards the changelings, trying to seem like Demegov's words are having an impact. I go as far as agreeing with a few of his statements to help keep him talking. As I get close, I immediately spot Demegov's symbol peering out from under a changeling's shirt. If I took the time to check all of them, I suspect I'd find it somewhere.

My relief is overwhelming.

I barely touch the collar of the shirt to get a better look. The emblem is much larger than my marking, covering most of the man's chest. I let his shirt go, my thoughts passing from panic to escape. I turn, my mouth open to tell Demegov that I'll lead his pack, but he's right there, his nose almost touching mine. I yelp and step back into the changeling I'd been examining.

Demegov's eyes are glowing so brightly that I want to look away, but I can't. He seems to tower over me, like he's getting taller every second. All I can do is cower.

"There's no need to lie, John. I know you plan on running out the door the first chance you get."

I find my voice, but it's barely a whisper, "But you were lying to me. I didn't change these people, you did…"

Anything else I was going to say dies on my tongue as fire flares in my shoulder. The pain isn't like the first time, it's not a warning. It burns through my body like I was tinder in a furnace. It lances up my neck, across my back, down my sides, consuming me. I howl in agony until blissful darkness swarms my vision. The last thing I feel is my head connecting with the floor.

xxxxxxxxxxxx

I can't move. It feels like someone stuffed cotton in all my senses and poured a gallon of acid in my muscles. Everything aches. I slowly regain control over my limbs, wiggling my fingers and toes experimentally.

A little belatedly, I realize that my neck hurts. I start reaching for it, but my hand jerks to a stop with a loud clang of metal.

What the hell?

I blink a few times to clear my vision. I'm lying on my back on a soft surface, staring up at an ornate ceiling with raised plaster details. I must still be in Demegov's house.

I twist my hands and feel the cold bite of metal on both wrists. That's when the panic sets in. My heartbeat jumps from a trot to a gallop in a flash. I yank at the restraints, trying every possible hand position to see if I can squeeze out of them. I pull until my skin is raw and there's a thin stream of blood running down my left wrist.

It's not the pain that stops me (I was actually thinking that the blood could give me enough lubrication to wiggle my hand free), it's the voices I hear outside the door. I don't quite catch the beginning of the conversation, the first voice was too low and too far away for me to discern, but I hear the answer just fine.

"No, it doesn't matter, play with him if you like," the second voice belongs to Demegov. "Just make sure he stays alive. I need his blood in Eden."

I'm still puzzling over what he meant when the door swings open. Framed in the light from the hall is Veldex, wearing the same creepy grin. Some of Demegov's words start sinking in, "play with him if you like". My stomach knots up sharply.

"Don't bother shifting, little wolf, the silver collar around your neck will kill you before you finish," he says slowly, deliberately, as he peels his shirt over his head.

I scramble to the top of the bed, as far away from him as I can get and as far as my restraints will allow. I jerk at the left one hard, twisting my wrist desperately to spread the blood around.

My hand doesn't budge.

"Don't touch me," I growl at him.

He laughs, "I don't think there's much you can do to stop me," and starts undoing his pants.

My eyes flick around the room. I don't know what I'm looking for. Anything, anything I can use to get out or hurt him. Anything at all. What I spot is my tracker, sticking out from between the sheets. It must have fallen off my belt.

Hellboy has to be looking for me by now. If he's within the range f the communications function, I could…

Veldex crawls onto the bed, completely shattering my train of thought. I aim a kick at his head, lashing out as hard as I can, but he catches my foot. He uses it to pull me down the bed towards him. My body comes off the sheets as my hands catch in the shackles, but he keeps pulling. I don't have enough time to worry about the damage that's been done, because he's over me, leaning down.

This close, his breath rolls across my face in sticky, foul waves. I can smell rotten meat and bone marrow. God only knows what, or who, he's been eating.

With my legs pinned beneath his and my hands above me head, the only thing I can think to do is bite him, but his rows of filed teeth make me wary of the idea. He can give as good as he gets.

He hooks his fingers into the top button of my shirt, tearing it open in one swift move. His nails leave bloody trails down my chest. They cross the faded marks on my abdomen from the wolf so many years ago, the blood pooling in the scar tissue before it spills down my side.

Veldex licks an opposing path the other direction. The contact is revolting. No one but HB has touched me like this since we mated, and I don't want anyone's hands on me but his.

I thrash and growl, but his hand whips around my neck faster than I can blink. He squeezes until I can't breath, pressing the silver collar into my skin. I don't have enough air to scream, to smell my burning flesh, but I can feel the silver doing its work. Just as I'm beginning to fall off the edge of consciousness, he releases me. He starts undoing my jeans while I gasp desperately.

I try for a brave face, not wanting to give him the chance to revel in my fear, but the attempt fails miserably when I start trembling. I spit out the only thing that will come to mind, not even sure if I can speak, "My mate's going to kill you." The words are airy, barely intelligible, but the threat is real.

Veldex's pointed grin gets a bit wider and he sits back on his heels. There's a soft crunch and a sound like tearing cloth. He rolls his shoulders and wings darker than the shadows unfurl from his back. Rips and holes spot the thin leather in so many places that I doubt he can fly, but his species is suddenly very clear to me.

Veldex leans down, surrounding us with his wings, "I look forward to a battle with the infamous – what's he call himself here on earth? Hellboy?"

- HB

"If John's not in trouble, I'm going to kick his furry ass."

I think I'd be more okay with him being outside 'cause he's going nuts than with him leaving with Miss Big Tits, in his right mind no less.

We're following John's tracking signal into New York; me, Abe, and the four guys Leonitus insisted we take with us. He's a little paranoid about us going out in broad daylight, so he tried to talk me into letting the agents actually fetch 'Scout while I wait in the truck.

That's not happening, but I agreed to it so he'd let me go.

"I should have left out the part with Alexia," Abe says, fiddling with his breathing tank. "You are unnecessarily concerned about them being together."

"I think pissed would be a better word for it."

"The point is that he cannot physically cheat on you. Intimacy with anyone else would be excruciating."

I cross my arms over my chest, my tail whipping back and forth, "You know, not everything in your books is true."

Abe blinks at me, in his weird way (since he doesn't have any eyelids) and turns a dial on his breathing thing in silence. He's probably trying to pick up on what I'm thinking.

"I don't need to try, Red, you broadcast loud and clear."

I roll my eyes.

"You need to have more faith in John. He has more reason to doubt your faithfu-"

I cut in, ticked off that he'd suggest something like that, "You know I've never cheated!"

He holds up his hands in surrender, "I never said that. What I was trying to say was that he has more reason to doubt than you, because you CAN have a relation with someone." When I stop glaring, he lowers his hands and adds, "I'll have you know that it is a fact that wolves cannot cheat. Copulating with someone besides their mate can be mentally scarring. It could even go as far as killing them, depending on the situation."

"Alright, I get it," I sigh and check the rounds in the Samaritan. It's about the third time I've double-checked them, but I'm getting real anxious to figure out what's going on. "I just never thought anybody would stick with me this long."

The minute it's out of my mouth, I want to take it back. It's cheesy and not something I want to talk about with Blue. At least the other agents are in a separate car.

"You can be difficult at times."

That was not the answer I wanted.

I glare at him and he adds, "But not enough so that John would leave you."

The speaker clicks on and an agent informs us, "We've circled the block, Green's signal is coming from inside this building."

I hit the button to answer, "Alright, stop the truck and let us out."

There's a really long pause. The two guys up front are probably trying to figure out if they were allowed to do that, and then the agent I talked to a second ago comes back on, "Red, I think you're supposed to stay in the truck."

"Stop the fucking truck and let us out," I say it slowly and firmly, making sure to get the point across that I will not take 'no' for an answer.

Abe brings something up, but I'm sure he knew what I was going to say before he opened his mouth, "Leonitus isn't going to be happy with you."

"Whoopde-fuckin'-do," I grump, slamming the Samaritan back into its holster. "I need a cigar."

"I thought John asked you to quit."

"He did, but I still need one."

The truck hasn't stopped and I'm assuming that the silence from the front means that they don't want to talk about it anymore. I punch the speaker button again and give them their last warning, "If you don't let me out now, I'm gonna' tear the door off and you're going to have a much bigger mess to clean up. Think about it."

It only takes them a second to decide. The truck stops and, shortly after, the door cranks open. The agent at the controls, I think his name is Jefferson, gives me a nervous expression.

"Red, we've already sent agents in. The General gave us orders that you and Blue were supposed to stay out of sight."

I jab a finger against his chest, "I'm going in after John. If you want to do your job and sweep the building for civilians, then so be it, but do it fast."

He nods and turns away to talk into his radio. While he's confirming things with the other agents, I turn to find Abe giving me a disapproving look. He doesn't even have to say anything.

"Alright mom, I'll stop bullying the other agents."

"I'm sure it would be appreciated on both sides."

I mutter under my breath, "Wouldn't get as much done."

Keeves, one of our primary agents, comes out of the building and gives us a thumbs-up. Jefferson nods, but I'm already moving past him before he gives us the 'ok'. He has to jog to keep up with me.

"They've cleared the lobby and the first room, but there's no sign of Green yet," Jefferson talks fast, he always does. It's part of the reason why I like him as an agent: it doesn't take long to get the info I need.

We pass by Keeves and I motion for him to follow us. The guy almost always has a cigar on him, calls them his 'fat lady' victory cigars. I usually only see him smoking one after we've kicked some serious ass, or if we're in deep shit.

I put an arm around his shoulder so I can lower my voice, "Keeves, you got a cigar?"

He arches an eyebrow at me, "Didn't Green ask you to quit?"

"Jeez, does everybody know about that?"

He shrugs, and then nods. "Pretty much."

"You're not going to give me one, are you?"

"No. Green will trace it back to me and I don't want to be on his shit list right now."

I grunt in response, annoyed and craving tobacco. This is about the sixth time the squirt's asked me to quit. He goes back and forth more than I do. I'll be off of them for a while and then he'll miss the smell and I'll start smoking again, and then he'll get sick of it. I kinda' wish he'd make up his mind.

We pass through the lobby and into what I thought was a waiting room. Looking around, I realize that it's more like a den or a living room.

"Is this somebody's house?" I ask, not sure what to make of it.

Abe ghosts his hand over the back of a chair, "Yes and no. The occupants are inhuman, celestial, maybe demons."

"Great," I layer on the sarcasm, dropping it when I glance back at Abe. "Get your books; see if you can't figure out what we're dealing with."

I settle into my usual position as group leader, pointing at Jefferson, "Stay with Abe, help him if he needs it. The rest of you, come with me."

There's a dark, wood door at the far side of the room, I head that direction. I'm about to explain the search plan when I open the door and Big Tits herself comes stumbling out.

"Where's John, you blond bimb-"

She looks at me, screams, and runs off.

"Okay."

Keeves jogs after her, "I'll get her." He shifts into a sprint and catches her just as she starts around a corner. I can't hear what he saying as he maneuvers her so she's sitting on the floor. Whatever he asks her, she shakes her head furiously in response. Alexia starts looking real confused, gesturing wildly at Keeves. It could be an act, but it doesn't seem like one.

Keeves finally comes back and says, "I don't know what it means, but she doesn't remember getting hired by the bureau. She doesn't even know why she's in America. Last thing she remembers is a research project in Sweden."

I glance back at her. She's staring at me like I'm going to walk over and rip out her soul. "Take her back to Abe; see if he can figure something out."

"What do you think it means?"

"Somebody went to a hell of a lot of trouble to infiltrate the bureau and now they've got John."

"But why? Why take Green, there are hundreds of wolf packs in the northeast that have got to be easier to get into than the bureau," Keeves asks as he maneuvers Alexia around me. She flattens herself against the wall, like she's trying to keep as much space as possible between me and her.

I'm tempted to scare the shit out of her, but we have better things to do. "I don't know why they'd want John, but I'm going to find out. Meet back up with us once you've left her with Abe, got it Keeves?"

He nods, hauling her off.

I turn to the remaining agents. One of them is a newbie from the sewer run (the one that doesn't have an attitude problem), and the other is a part-time paperwork guy. Why the hell did he get sent out with us? He looks nervous; it's probably only the second or third time he's been out on the field and I'd bet good money that Leonitus thought an easy case like bringing 'Scout back onto base would be excellent experience for him.

"Rookies," I grumble under my breath. "Come on. We're going to sweep this corridor. Make sure your guns are out."

The desk job kid asks hesitantly, "Do you think there'll be trouble, Red?"

I rest my fingers against the Samaritan's handle. It's probably best not to scare the newbies, so I go with a, "Nah, probably not," but I'm thinking, 'There's always trouble'.

TBC


	5. Psalms 91:5

_You will not fear the terror of the night, nor the arrow that flies by day, nor the pestilence that stalks in the darkness, nor the plague that destroys at midday.~Psalms 91:5  
_

- HB

The bolt on the first door I kick in gives way with a satisfying snap. There's not much behind it, just a plain sitting room with a massive statue of the archangel Michael against the far wall. Weird décor, but nothing incriminating.

The other agents get the idea and move on to the other nearby rooms. We make our way down the hall, finding a hell of a lot of nothing. Empty library, empty study, empty fucking house. It's not just that we can't find John, there's nobody in this place, not a fucking soul.

It's weird.

"Hey Red," the paperwork kid trots up beside me.

"What?"

"Didn't Blue say that demons lived here? I mean, aren't there a lot of angels in the decorations for demons?"

I shrug, "No accounting for taste."

I'm not really in the mood for a Q and A, but, thankfully, he doesn't say anything else. He sorta' bobs his head in agreement.

From down the hall, the other newbie agent shoves open a door with his foot and yells, "Clear." He watches too many movies.

"You're not a member of the SWAT team, so quit it," I yell at him.

He looks at me like I just dumped a bucket of water on his parade. "But I thought, in a situation like this…"

"If there's something here, do we want it to know where we are?"

"Um… no."

"Then shut up."

It's harsh, but I'm getting this feeling that something's very wrong here. I don't get a gut response all that often, that's more of a 'Scout thing, but it's hard to ignore it when I do. This whole thing seems like a set up, and I'm beginning to think that we're being watched.

I check down the hall in both directions, but it's just like the rest of the house, empty. If there's somebody on our tail, I don't know where he's hiding.

We go though a big archway and come into a cross-section of halls. The more of this place I see, the more I'm thinking we could miss 'Scout entirely. It's such a big building that they could take him down a side hall and we'd never even know it.

"Crap," I mutter as I look down the four different halls we have to choose from. The one to the far left is calling my name, I couldn't say why. I turn that way.

"Come on kid, give me a sign." I don't know what I'm expecting, but I don't get it. Instead, Abe's voice chimes in my earpiece.

"Our folklore expert was hardly what she seemed. I cannot find any trace of the bureau in her memories."

I push open a door with my gun, aiming into another dead end. It's a fancy bathroom with nobody home. This is getting old.

"So she was just sent in to lure John out?" I theorize.

"Hm, could be," Abe pauses and gasps slightly, "Red, this woman has Demegov's emblem burned into her skin."

I stop, pressing the ear-bud a little deeper into my ear. I know what I heard, but I'm hoping he said something different. "What?"

"It is possible that his power extends beyond contagions. We might be looking at a high level demon, the likes of which we haven't seen before."

I have to admit, part of me is anticipating a good fight, but this bastard has John and God only knows what he plans on doing with him. If he's hurt him, it ain't going to be pretty. I'll kick his ass so hard he won't be able to find it afterwards.

"Red?"

I ignore the newbie, thinking about what Abe said. What would a demon want with 'Scout? He's not a pureblood wolf, he's not even aggressive (except recently), he's not a pack leader… I don't get it.

"Red, I hear something," paperwork boy tugs on my jacket and points down the hall.

The swat-team wannabe is leaning against a door with a stupid grin on his face, "Sounds like we'll catch them with their pants down."

"Move," I order, getting into position to kick the door down. Considering the rest of the house is empty, it's probably just a couple of teenagers that broke in. My boot hits in the center of the wood and the bolt snaps like a twig. The door slams backwards into the room.

The demon doing the fucking doesn't seem to notice, or he doesn't give a shit 'cause he just keeps at it. He's got wings that spread across most of the room, so he's a high-level bastard, but I doubt that he's Demegov. Seems like a plague demon wouldn't spend a lot of his time getting laid.

The agent from the capri case busts in next to me and takes aim, "Freeze!"

I'm about to mention that he's probably not going anywhere until he gets off, but something he did caught the demon's attention. He stops thrusting long enough to send a glare over his shoulder, his wings flaring out far enough to touch either wall.

"Alright pal, we're looking for Demegov, now where we can find him?"

It can't hurt to ask, but, like I figured, he's not interested in talking. He lunges towards me a hell of a lot faster than I was expecting, hitting me square in the chest with his shoulder. It catches me off guard and I stumble back a few steps.

"Damn, son of a…" I swing my stone hand around, but I barely clip his side. Bastard is fast, really fast. He darts past me and slams into paperwork kid before he gets a shot off.

I put a bullet into the wall next to him and he leaps onto the headboard, grinning like a maniac. He glances down and I follow his gaze to see who the demon was screwing. Bound and bleeding is John, my John. He's staring into nothingness, his expression frozen in pain. Abe's words come back to me, that being with someone else could kill him.

"John!" I shout and head towards his side. Just before I reach him, something sharp whips across my face. Blood runs hot down my skin. I turn a lethal glare onto the demon, a primal rage taking over me.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see the other agent raising his gun. I practically roar at him, "Don't you dare! He's mine."

The demon's grin gets that much wider as he crawls off the headboard and onto the bed. "You don't seem all that powerful. The way he talked about you, I expected something a bit more impressive."

He leans down to lick the side of John's face and something inside me snaps.

I charge him. I don't bother with my gun; he'll just dodge around it. No, my plan is to rip him apart with my bare hands. His wing lashes across my chest, going straight through my jacket and shirt and laying me open nearly to the bone. I grab for it and miss, my rage mounting. The damn thing laughs at me and lashes out again, but I've got the timing right this time. I snag the bony edge of the wing, yanking him to me.

He's not laughing anymore.

"Anung un Rama, please, I beg of you," he snivels once I have him.

My rage boils over. He can grovel all he likes, it won't save him. I slam him onto the ground, pinning him with my knee, and bash my stone fist into his face. Blood flies first, but the second and third hits throw up small pieces of bone.

I vaguely realize that I'm screaming at the top of my lungs, but I can't stop. All I see is John's lifeless body, his broken eyes, and this THING is responsible. I slam my fist into the demon until he stops moving, until there's nothing left of him but red mist and organic slime clinging to my hand.

Even then, my fury won't subside.

Heat is crawling up my arm from the stone and the cracks and crevices seem to radiate like embers on a fire. I've felt this before, but I don't give it much thought. I continue to make the ground where the demon was into rubble. The blood looks like a massive Rorschach test spreading out around me.

My anger slowly starts to recede to the recesses of my mind and I sit back to admire my handiwork. The floor is covered in bits of demon. His head is completely gone. Foolish lesser should not have touched what is mine.

I climb to my feet and take a moment to suck the blood off my fingers. The humans I came in with shrink away form me as I go back to my pair's side. Sorrow wells in me when I see the tear tracks on his face.

I should have been here sooner.

He doesn't look at me when I touch his face. In fact, he doesn't seem to be looking at anything. His eyes are lifeless. For a moment, I fear that he might be gone, but I see his chest rising and falling minutely.

One of the humans says a name I don't acknowledge. I wrap my pair in the sheet and reach up to rip his chains out of the wall. He still doesn't react as I scoop him up. Normally, he would fight me over being carried, but it's as though he's not there.

If he can't be fixed, the future of this world is very bleak. I can't say that there's a reason to keep protecting it without him.

The humans scurry along behind me as I carry my pair's limp form out of Demegov's house. We pass by the ocean dweller and he calls me by the name the other mortal used. I don't answer. He gets closer, but tries to respect my space. It's a wise choice.

"Anung un Rama?"

I turn, warning him with my eyes that he'd better have a good reason for addressing me. The ocean dweller is someone I respect, but I'm in an extremely foul mood.

His gaze flashes from my pair, then back to me. I can tell he's trying to determine what happened, but doesn't want to ask. When he doesn't speak in a timely fashion, I start walking again. The whole group minces along in my wake.

Eventually, the ocean dweller speaks again, "If we can get back to my books, I may be able to find a way to help John."

I cradle my pair's bruised and bloodied body closer to my own. His wolfen abilities have already begun to heal the wounds, but nothing can change the damage in his head. Even if we can bring him around, he might not let anyone touch him again. I don't know if I could stand him looking at me with fear.

"We have to try," I say contrary to my thoughts. I immediately extend the severity of the situation, "You have one hour or I seek answers elsewhere." I don't need to speak the rest of the threat, the ocean dweller can see it in my mind.

He mumbles, "I don't usually work under these kinds of conditions, but I'll see what I can do," and leads everyone back to the vehicles.

I spend the ride removing the remnants of shackles from my pair's wrists and trying to ignore the stench of fear rolling off the humans. I'm tempted to obliterate them for their cowardice, but I know my pair would not approve.

The ocean dweller is keeping a thoughtful eye on me. I'm sure he knows there is nothing he could do should I decide to become homicidal, but his gaze seems to be more of concern than thinking of me as a threat. He is also fond of my pair, so I will let him worry if it helps.

I trail my flesh fingers down my pair's face and across the delicate hollow of his throat. My hand pauses on a thin piece of metal pressed deep into his skin. There are scorch marks all around it; I can barely smell the burned flesh. It must be silver.

I consider the collar carefully, not sure of the best way to remove it. If I just wrench it loose I'll risk farther damage to his neck, possibly enough damage to kill him.

I gentry maneuver my pair upright so I can look at the rest of the silver band. There's a tiny locking mechanism at the back, far too small for me to work with. More nimble hands will be needed for this.

The ocean dweller gets up instantly. I nearly forgot he could read minds. "Let me help. We need to get the silver off of him as soon as possible," he offers, not coming too close until I nod.

He goes to work on the collar, fitting a small metal instrument into the keyhole. It only takes moments for him to get it open. The collar has to be peeled away and takes some skin with it, but my pair doesn't flinch. It tells me how deeply buried he is in his mind. I know my pair and something like that should have had him whining and gripping my arm so tightly that his knuckles turned white.

"You have to help me fix him," I tell the ocean dweller softly. I take the threat out of it. He is, after all, my friend.

"I will," he swears to me and I believe him. It would be grave mistake to break such a promise, especially to me.

When we stop, I follow the ocean dweller closely. He hurries into a library. It's a place I've been, but the memory is as vague as a dream.

I lay my charge out across an elaborate desk, making sure that he's still covered by the sheet. Unconscious or no, my pair is extremely modest and wouldn't want to find out that he was exposed.

The ocean dweller starts scanning through books at a rapid rate, tossing them on a table behind him when they don't have the information he needs. Eventually, he makes a sound of discovery and starts reading a tome more in depth.

I hear the door open and glance over with minimal interest. The human general stands in the frame, his mouth hanging open as he stares at me. I want to crush him for the impertinence.

The ocean dweller leaps between us, taking the human's shoulder firmly in an attempt to lead him away. Even though he speaks in a low voice, I can still hear his words, "It would be best if you didn't stare while he's in this state, Leonitus. I'll give you a full report as soon I can find an answer for John's condition."

The human's eyes flick off of me just long enough to take in my pair's still form. "What happened to Myers? And why is his head on fire?" He looks back at me, clearly in shock over my current appearance.

The ocean dweller escorts him out before I can get truly angry. He explains very little to the human, but dishes out vague promises to do so later.

I'm considering gathering my pair up and taking him to someone who will get results sooner, but the ocean dweller comes rushing back with a multitude of apologies. I start absently stroking my partner's hair while the fish man gets back to his books. The clock above the shelves states that it's only a few minutes past the new hour. I'll give him until the half.

He doesn't need that long. After only a few more moments with his book, he has a solution, "It says here that you must re-mate with him within…" his eyes go wide as he pauses, "Now, you must re-mate him now. There's a chance it may already be too late."

- John

I come to with the feeling that someone is leaning over me. My situation comes rushing back in a flash, the wrenching pain as Veldex took me by force. His pointed grin hovered above me, mocking my agony and my terror. He was laughing as I sobbed. My body screamed that this demon was not my mate and it felt as though I was being ripped apart.

"No!" I scream and jerk upright, dragging my claws across the body above me.

I open my eyes, but all I see is red. Have I gone blind? Arms wrap around my back and my pulse leaps into a gallop. I struggle against him, trying to shift but my wolf isn't responding.

The scents of home start to break through my panic. As I calm down, I can pick out individual smells: the cats, HB's secret cigar stash he thinks I don't know about, sweat and old sex. But the thing that pacifies me the most is the smell of my mate, musky and strong against my nose.

"Hellboy," I murmur, curling my hands on his chest.

Something's wrong though. It could be the fact that he hasn't said anything, or maybe there's something a little off about his smell. There's a sharp metallic hint of blood on him, but it's not that uncommon after a mission. Right now, I really don't care.

I close my eyes and let my mind wander as HB's flesh hand rubs circles across my back. A bit belatedly, I realize that I'm naked. Everywhere he touches me, its skin on skin. I'm sticky too and I'm not about to dwell on that. All that matters is that I'm safe now.

"Why are you so quiet?" I finally ask.

Typically, he would've thrown out a plethora of nervous jokes and a 'maybe you should stay home' by now.

His voice seems deeper than usual when he answers me, "I didn't have anything to say."

I go into shock. HB always has something to say. The only exception I know of is the days following Professor Bruttenholm's death. I remember feeling so useless then, wishing I could do more for Hellboy.

I sit back and my breath catches in my throat. The first things I notice are his eyes. I don't know why, considering his massive horns, but his eyes have no pupils. They're solid yellow and seem to have a faint glow to them. His breath mists as though the air is freezing, but I know that it's because his body temperature is infinitely higher than it usually is.

It took the forceful interference of Rasputin to release this side of him the first time. I don't need to ask what caused it. I shudder to think of what condition he found me in. Veldex is probably dead and I'm thankful for that.

"Red," I whisper, ghosting my hand over the nasty gashes I just left on him. I'm not sure whether he's still Hellboy, or if Anung un Rama is a different personality entirely. Clearly, he still cares for me either way; I just don't know how to bring him around.

He leans in to press his lips to my forehead and all of my muscles knot up involuntarily. My breathing stops. Panic crops up as quickly as it had vanished moments before. I can't push it back.

Red sits back with a wounded look. I think it hurts me more than it does him. He's been my mate, my lover, for longer than most can imagine and I have no reason to fear him. My throat closes up at the thought of hurting him, but I don't know how to fix it.

I squeeze my eyes shut, feeling unwanted tears stinging behind my eyelids. "I'm sorry," I croak out as I manage to get my strange attack under control.

"Oh, babe, it's not your fault."

When I open my eyes, his normal gaze meets mine. I'm glad to have him back to being HB. As much as Anung un Rama is still my mate, he scares me because I know what his purpose is. He'd rather be surrounded by the destruction of mankind, me by his side, than be cooped up in the bureau.

For him, it's that simple.

I use Red's tactic to shake my foreboding, tossing out a half-hearted joke, "It's going to take you forever to file your horns back."

He laughs a little, but it seems forced. It's going to take us a long time to live down this day. I know he'll worry about me more, and I'll be looking over my shoulder and fighting off nightmares for months.

Some tiny part of me wants to blame him for not being there sooner, but his guilt is already rampant on his features. I wouldn't voice something like that. The rational part of me knows he did what he could. I was the one who shouldn't have wandered off like an idiot.

After only a second of hesitation, I lean forward to rest my face against his chest. My fear slowly leaks out of me as I breathe his scent. Red holds me tightly, like I'd slip away if he didn't. I don't mind because I feel like I might too.

There's one thing I have to know, "Did you kill him?" I whisper the question against his skin, terrified that the answer is 'no'.

Red doesn't say anything at first. He buries his nose in my hair while he thinks. The long pause makes me nervous. Maybe Veldex did get away, maybe Red found me after the fact and couldn't find him. My stomach starts doing sickening summersaults as the possibilities mount.

Finally, he sighs, "Yes, he's dead. There's not much left actually."

All of my muscles release at once, my tension vanishing. HB keeps explaining (like he needs to defend his actions), but I let him talk.

"I completely lost control when I saw what he'd done to you. I never…" he trails off, not sure how to finish the sentence.

I understand exactly what he's trying to say. HB can get angry, or pissed, but he doesn't lose control. There's really no reason to be surprised by it, considering the circumstances.

I don't ask what he did to him; I doubt I would want to know the details. It was probably a horribly violent death and I'm satisfied with that. As long as I don't see him again.

Just the thought of him brings a flash of memory that makes me shudder violently. I want him gone. I have to erase him from my mind, from my body. In my current state, I'm not sure if I can, but I'm going to try.

I kiss HB firmly on the mouth, desperately needing him to make things normal. His reaction is strong. He grabs my shoulders, gripping so tightly it almost hurts, and lays us both against the bed.

My panic mounts instantly, but I shove it back. I don't know what I'm trying to prove. Maybe if I'm with Red, I won't think about what happened, maybe I'll be able to shake the feeling that I'm filthy, violated.

I open my mouth to HB's tongue, but my trembling gives me away. He stops immediately and rests his cheek against mine. His voice is tight, pained, "John, you don't have to do this."

It's amazing how few people realize that HB is extremely receptive. It may just be that we've been close for so long, but I don't have to say anything for him to know how I'm feeling. Except he doesn't have all the details. He knows I'm scared, but he doesn't realize that I have to get past that to be okay.

"Yes, I do," I state as firmly as I can when I'm shaking like a leaf.

HB pushes himself up to stare at me with incredulous eyes, "You know, I may not look too patient, but I can wait. Especially for you."

He gives me a reassuring smile. I'm proud that he didn't stumble over something that he would normally call 'sappy beyond all reasoning'. He doesn't even try to negate the statement with some sarcastic comment afterwards. It's nice, but I learned a long time ago to hear the truth hidden in his brazen attitude.

"I need this, Red," I confirm again, hoping to sound a little more convincing this time. "I need to forget what happened."

As he's preparing an argument, something occurs to me.

"Lie back," I tell him, getting a bemused expression from him.

"Why?"

"Just do it."

He does and his horns catch on the headboard on the way down. After some grumbling and a few choice words about using a metal file on them, he gets settled. I roll over onto his chest and my fear is gone instantly, relief fills the space.

"This is better," I say, my eyes stuck on Red's washboard stomach as I straddle him. This might work. If I'm feeling okay enough with this that seeing him turns me on, maybe I can make it through. Although, I don't think there's much that can shake that desire out of me.

HB looks unconvinced. He runs his hands up my thighs in leisurely strokes, keeping mindful not to let them stray too high. "So what do you want to do?"

A comment like that makes me smile. I realize what he's thinking now and he's really far off base. "I'm not going to ask you to play bottom," I reassure him.

Red relaxes slightly, "I didn't figure… Are you really sure you want to push this so soon? It's okay if you-"

I interrupt, only for fear that I'll lose my nerve if we beat around the bushes too long, "The sooner I'm with you, the sooner we can both put this behind us."

My words kill any protest he might have had left. He nods and slowly winds his tail around my leg. It's his silent way of claiming me.

I wasn't going to bother with any prep, but it's Red who grabs the lube out of the drawer. Considering there's still moisture between my legs from… I just don't think it's needed. Since the reason is too upsetting to mention, I don't argue as he slicks himself up and trails two glistening fingers up the inside of my thigh.

HB is watching my expression carefully, so I try to keep it as neutral as I can. Any sign of fear or discomfort will make him stop in an instant. As his digits slip inside me one at a time, I do get a brief, but stifling swell of fear that I manage to beat into submission. He pauses until I nod my consent breathlessly.

We don't talk, our communication is perfectly clear in the way we look at one another, in the way our muscles twitch and our eyes change. I suppose we haven't needed words in a long time, but we use them out of habit.

Red withdraws his hand and I get into position over his cock, his strong hands guiding me. I take him into me in one quick move. It burns, but it's good. My throat doesn't constrict with terror at feeling him inside me, so it's good no matter how much it hurts.

He lets me take the reigns, for which I'm grateful. When the pace is my own, it makes things a little easier. I take it slow, achingly slow compared to our normal sessions, but he doesn't complain.

I rise up off of him, my body shaking just a little as all of the pain morphs into familiar pleasure. Red takes it the wrong way, as I knew he would, so I ignore his concerned questions and push back down recklessly fast.

A growl rolls out of my primal side like it's just waking from hibernation and I realize that it's going to be alright. I might still have nightmares in the coming months and I might still watch dark shadows more closely than I used to, but I'll have my mate with me no matter what.

I throw myself into our lovemaking with wild abandon, which surprises Red, but only for a moment. Before I can tease him for his look of total confusion, it's replaced by a half-cocked grin that I cover with my lips.

Everything's going to be fine…

TBC…

It was a dark chapter, sorry for those of you who were looking for a more lighthearted resolution to John getting abducted by a demon. I was really, REALLY torn about which way it should turn out, but it seemed more dramatic like this.


	6. Job 24:17

_For all of them, deep darkness is their morning; they make friends with the terrors of darkness.~Job 24:17_

- HB

I definitely don't sleep that night. After what happened, who could blame me? 'Scout, on the other hand, sort of dozes. He went to sleep right after we finished having sex, but only stayed asleep about twenty minutes. Then he was twitching and moaning, and I had to shake his shoulders to break him out of it.

We continue that way about half the night, me just keepin' watch while he sleeps and waking him up when he needs me to. After a while, he stops trying to sleep and we just lay together. I keep expecting him to drift off again, but every time I look down, he's staring into space.

"What are you thinking about?" I finally ask, sliding my fingers across his back.

His answer is so quiet I almost don't catch it, "Eden."

Eden? It's definitely not what I was expecting. "Eden, like in Genesis Eden?"

'Scout sits up to look at me, propping himself on one elbow. Whatever it is, he's still thinking hard on it, trying to figure it out. "Demegov said that he needed my blood in Eden. I don't know whether it was Eden from the bible, or something else. That was all he said."

I process that, my mind turning over all the myths and legends I can remember about Eden. There's nothing I can think of that references Lycanthrope blood and the original paradise. In fact, there's nothing concerning any kind of blood and Eden that comes to mind. It's got to mean something else. A guy with as many religious statues and paintings as Demegov probably named a building or a site Eden.

John nudges me so I'll lie on my back. I do and he climbs on top of me, laying our bodies flush except for his face. He stays propped up so he can look me in the eyes.

"I think we should pack up some of Abe's books and pay the Society a visit. Between Abe and Eon, maybe we can find an answer to this mess," 'Scout sighs, blowing a stray piece of hair out of his face. It defiantly falls right back into place.

I tuck it behind his ear while I nod at his statement, "They'll probably figure something out a little faster that way." I don't doubt that either of them could figure it out alone, but those two have some hardcore brainstorming sessions. Considering they never talk, it's ridiculously intense.

The trip might calm 'Scout's nerves a little too. Being with the Society usually leaves him pretty content. Maybe it's because all of us in a big group is more like a pack, but I can't bet on that. Whatever the reason, he could use the stress relief.

'Scout lays his head down, his fingers tracing the pattern on my right shoulder. His hair is greyer than it was yesterday. The realization gives me a very uneasy feeling. The past few days have taken more of a toll on him than I'd thought. Right now, he looks more his age than he ever has, and that scares the hell out of me.

Something I've been vainly trying to ignore is the fact that 'Scout will probably go long before I do. What if I don't ever age past this point? I'd be immortal alone.

I squeeze him tighter and bite back my fear. He needs me to be strong, especially right now, so my goddamn insecurities can wait. 'Scout worries about enough without him fretting over what I'm going to do once he's gone. Knowing the way he takes on blame, he'd probably blame himself for getting old and apologize for it.

"HB?"

I clear my throat so I won't sound like I was getting choked up and answer, "Yeah?"

"Why do I have a memory of you screwing me while I'm unconscious?"

My mind goes blank for a second. I can barely remember it, even though it only happened a few hours ago, but I know it's because of… him (The split personality I'm not even going to name in my head in case it makes me become him again). I can remember Abe's words about John dying if I didn't do something immediately.

Wait… 'Scout hasn't gotten a memory from me since the first time we had sex. Why did he get one now?

I backpedal and start with the explanation, "Abe said you'd die if I didn't re-mate you." I'm digging through my memory for more, but it's all hazy, like I was drunk or something. Part of me is relieved that my other half cares enough about John to do what he had to. "And how the hell did you know about that if you were unconscious?"

'Scout shrugs a little and frowns, "I have a lot of memories I didn't have before, but I'm in most of them. It's kind of weird."

So I guess re-mating is just like a mating. It's like we started from scratch in his wolf's mind. There were a few things I've been hiding from him that are out in the open now. Not much I can do about that.

He cites and example almost instantly, "You don't sleep after I get hurt?"

Damn the wolf mating process and all of its 'perks'.

I groan out of embarrassment more than anything, mostly because he'll think my actions are cute or sweet. It doesn't really matter, but it kind of damages the badass persona I try to maintain. "Yeah and you know about my cigar stash too, I know, I'm sorry." Though, I guess 'Scout can see past all that anyway.

'Scout surprises me when he laughs, "I've known about the cigar stash since you started it. Don't underestimate my nose, Red."

And it didn't disappear why? Guess I shouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth. Geez, that's an old saying. Maybe I should give that one up.

I rub my thumb along 'Scout's jaw, admiring the amusement still dancing in his eyes. Abe was right about 'Scout being able to bounce back from anything, but I think he underestimated exactly how sturdy he is. The kid doesn't just bounce back, he's fucking Indian rubber.

"You amaze me, you know that?"

'Scout leans into my touch and smiles. It's a bigger grin than I've seen on him in a while, "Yeah, I know."

Demegov needs to be dealt with. I'll kill him myself if I get the chance. Whatever he's up to has got to be bigger than making 'Scout nuts, then letting his lackey have his way with him. There's gotta' be a bigger picture.

Eden. Why Eden?

With this many demons involved, it may very well be the Eden where it all began, but that place has been lost for centuries. Besides it being the birthplace of sin, there's not a hell of a lot there for a demon. It's more like a historical marker you take your kids to and say 'look, this is where it all happened'.

Unless you're a big history buff, it's basically a snoozer.

I take a breath to ask John something, but he's finally gone to sleep. My question dies in my mouth. I'm not waking him up to figure this shit out; it can wait until morning.

I gently run my hand up and down his back, before wrapping it firmly around his waist. Yeah, I'm paranoid, but who can blame me? I'll stay up all night if it means he's safe.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

I jerk awake and immediately check John's side of the bed.

It's empty.

"John?" I call, leaping out of bed. The sheets are still warm, so if somebody's got him, they haven't gone far. I can probably catch them before they get out of the base. I'm not going to lose him, not again.

'Scout comes out of the bathroom with a toothbrush hanging out of his mouth, making me feel like an idiot. Relief overpowers my humiliation. At least he's okay. I let him spit the toothpaste into the sink before I wrap my arms around him from behind. He looks up and our eyes lock in the mirror.

We look exhausted. 'Scout seems about ready to fall off his feet and I'm not too far behind. He forces a little smile that I halfheartedly mimic.

"We need a vacation," I joke, squeezing him slightly.

"I've never been to Jamaica," 'Scout quips back.

The joke is already falling apart, but I really kill it with, "I should fit right in on the beach."

John grips my arm with both hands and we get quiet.

Should've kept my mouth shut.

After a minute or so, he ducks out of my hold and gets in the shower. I'm not so sure if I'm invited to join him. I stare at my reflection, at the horns standing two feet in the air, at my stone arm. For the first time since this relationship began, I wonder what he sees in me. I have all this power, with very obvious cost, and I can't even protect him properly.

My hand curls into a fist, the stone grinding loudly. I grit my teeth. I'm about two seconds from smashing the mirror when John touches my arm. My anger fades as I turn to him.

"Are you coming?" is all he asks before he goes back to the shower. It's not what he says, its how. I can hear the forgiveness in his voice. I needed it more than I realized.

We get cleaned up and dressed, and then he shaves while I get my horns back under control. I have to replace the sandpaper on my filer once before I can finish. It probably wouldn't have taken as long if I'd broken them off first, but that hurts like a bitch.

By the time I finish, 'Scout's moved on to packing our bags for the trip to England. I smile as the lube bottle hits the suitcase. There's not much of a catastrophe that could affect our sex-life.

"What flavor you bringing?" I ask, hoping for a blush and getting one.

'Scout flushes beautifully and mumbles, "Does it really matter?"

"Nah, not really."

Considering he's the one who goes to get this stuff, I have to wonder how he can get through checkout without passing out. He may be a wild man during the act itself, but I don't think he'll ever get over being embarrassed when it comes to admitting it. Just once, I'd love to see him at the store picking things out. I bet that blush never leaves his face.

I lay a kiss on the back of his neck and head out to fill Leonitus in. I'm only about five steps down the hall when the separation anxiety hits me. It's ridiculous, there's no one who could get inside the Bureau, let alone in and past security to get John. I can't shake it though.

I go back to find 'Scout slightly shaken and following after me. We meet at the door, neither of us speaking our fear.

"I think I'll stay until you're done packing," I mutter.

He nods, relaxing, "Please do."

When he's finished, we make our way to Leonitus's office together. I'm tempted to carry him, but I don't. 'Scout's already been dragged around the base in nothing but a sheet, so I know he'd like to hang on to his last shred of dignity.

Nobody says a thing to us as we walk through the base. Their expressions are so varied, it's hard to pin down why. Some seem relieved; others give me terrified looks. I wish I could remember what I'd done to freak out so many hardened agents. The only thing I can think of is how I'd brutally destroyed that demon, and I can't be sorry for that. I don't care how many agents I scare, I'd do it again.

'Scout's walking with his eyes glued to the floor. He probably thinks those looks are meant for him. I'd bet a huge sum of money that me going monkey shit scares a whole lot more people than him getting a little moon crazy.

I slip an arm across his shoulder and breathe against his ear, "I promise they're not afraid of you."

Even if he doesn't buy it, his eyes say that he appreciates the effort. I don't really get a chance to prove it to him because we get to Leonitus's door. This time, I actually knock. Figure I should show a little respect after completely going over his head yesterday.

"Come in."

John goes in first and gets a smile.

"It's good to see you on your feet, Myers," the general says sincerely, shaking 'Scout's hand.

"Thank you, sir."

With his formalities out of the way, Leonitus turns to me. He seems guarded, like he's not sure what I'm capable of anymore… like I might attack him. I'm starting from square one if he's gotta' learn to trust me.

I don't know what to say to put him at ease, so I just launch into mission parameters, "We need to get the brains together to figure out what Demegov wants. We've got a lot of info and not a lot of answers."

He hesitates, his hands the only things giving him away. They go from resting on his hips, to burying in his pockets, eventually settling crossed on his chest. His face, on the other hand, is set in 'general in charge' mode. Just looking at that expression, you'd never have any idea he was uncertain.

Finally, he asks, "You're back to yourself then, right?"

"Yes, sir."

His eyebrows arch in disbelief, "Are you sure? You don't usually address me properly."

Thank god he's willing to let this pass. I smile a little at his joke and catch 'Scout chuckling off to the side. I guess I really should start showing the man more respect. After all, he treats us well and gives us the reigns over almost everything.

"Sorry about that, sir. I'll try and be better about it." I ignore John's blatant look of shock. Is it really that unbelievable that I'll pay attention to the man's title? Not that I've ever shown much respect to anyone…

Behind Leonitus, 'Scout mouths a question at me that I only half catch, but it's clear enough that he's making fun of my attitude adjustment. I warn him with my eyes and he smirks, but stops.

I get back to business, "John says Demegov mentioned Eden, but that place has been MIA since Genesis. Between Abe and Eon, maybe we can figure out what the hell he's after."

"So you want to take the team to England?" Leonitus confirms, going to his desk to rifle around in the papers.

"Yes, sir."

'Scout perks up, offering, "We'll brief the team on the plane and alert Lazarus that we're coming. Eon's library pretty well rivals our own, but we'll make sure Abe packs the tomes she doesn't have access to."

Leonitus picks up some form and signs it. After a pause, he looks at us like he's surprised we're still here, "It sounds like you have it all planned. Get to it."

"Thanks Leon-" I stop myself before I revert back to being casual. "Thanks, general."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Within three hours, we've assembled a team that isn't afraid to be in the same room with me, gotten Abe's crap packed, and loaded up on a cargo plane headed east. On the way, 'Scout brings the team up to speed. We have so little information that it doesn't take long. When the briefing is done, Abe dives into his books and 'Scout curls up on my lap and drops to sleep almost instantly.

It's a really long, boring flight, broken only by Abe occasionally making soft sounds of discovery. He doesn't really get anywhere before we land (at least not as far as I know), but I think he's got a better idea of what direction to take when he and Eon put their heads together. I'm banking a lot on them being able to sort this out.

I look down at John's peaceful face, thankful that he's actually resting. It probably won't be long before the nightmares start again, but at least he can get a few winks.

I slide my left hand through his speckled hair and down to the collar of his shirt. Pushing the fabric aside, I glare at the symbol that started this mess. The scar of Demegov's emblem is deep and dark, a lot worse than it was when it first showed up. At least it's not bleeding anymore.

Abe sighs and closes the book he's got in his lap. He looks frustrated, if that's even possible for him. "I cannot find anything concerning the original paradise and Lycanthropy. I'll need Eon's books before I can explore it farther."

"Alright," I say quietly, not wanting to wake 'Scout.

I should've known better.

He stirs the instant I talk, trying his damndest to blink the exhaustion out of his eyes.

"Are we getting close?" he mumbles as he lays his head back against my chest.

"Yeah, we're close." I have no idea how far out we are, but it doesn't matter, 'cause 'Scout's out again in seconds. I doubt he'll even remember waking up.

Not long after he's resumed a soft snore, the captain comes over the intercom to tell us that we're ten minutes out and should strap in for the landing. I guess I was right after all. I shift 'Scout into his own chair, fighting against the intense clinginess he gets when he's sleepy, and buckle him in.

I hope they can find something to help him. If they can't, I don't know who else we can go to. My mind turns to my father, to his faith. I close my eyes and beg him to talk to the big guy upstairs, 'cause I doubt he takes requests from someone like me.

- John

When we pull up in front of the Society's base, I push open the doors before we stop rolling. It's been almost five years since the last time we got out here, and I'm pretty eager to get inside. Abe and HB will get dropped in the back, but I just can't wait.

The bakery was redone into a patent office about twenty years ago. Eon sells over five-hundred patents a year for ideas and products that she could come up with in her sleep. As she puts it, 'they're just little formulas that recalibrate a turbine engine to be twenty percent more effective, or a simple device that can keep human organs from shutting down while someone waits on a donor's list.'

She's probably earned enough money with her patents alone to buy a third world country, but I know that most of her real cash comes from participating in think tanks. Eon has had her hand in over forty of the major scientific, medical, genetic, and industrial breakthroughs in the past ten years.

Over all, it's made living conditions for the Society a bit more comfortable than they've ever been. The bakery has been cut down to a reception area and Eon's receiving office, and the rest belongs to the Society. Lazarus still doesn't know what to do with the space.

I go through the front, but I get stopped by the new receptionist. Eon's had the same receptionist since her office opened and this is not her.

"Can I help you, sir?"

This new woman is a stout, stern forty-something who's peering at me over bejeweled reading glasses. I probably look pretty strange just marching through the office like I own the place.

"Eon is a personal friend. She's expecting me," I explain, pointing towards the door leading into the back of the building.

Maybe I should have gone around to the back with Red.

The receptionist purses her lips with obvious disapproval as she scans a calendar on the desk in front of her, "You don't have an appointment."

I need an appointment as a friend? What kind of nut-job does this lady peg me for? I know my hair is probably a little messy from the trip, but I couldn't look that whacked out.

"No, I-"

She cuts in sharply, "Mrs. Andrews is very busy this afternoon. She has a group coming in from America for consultation; she won't be able to fit you in until next week."

"Yeah, I'm with that group. John Myers, BPRD?"

"All it says here is a consult with a Mr. 'Red' and 'companions'," she taps the calendar with a fluffy-tipped pen and circles the appointment like it'll help me understand that I'm NOT in her books.

I'm on the verge of just barreling through the door when Lazarus comes in with a bag stuffed with what smells like confectionary snacks and beef jerky. He's reading the back of a box of nicotine patches, so he doesn't notice me immediately. As could be expected of an immortal man, he hasn't changed a bit since we first met. He's wearing his hair in a choppy, un-styled cut and is currently sporting a goatee of sorts, but otherwise looks exactly the same down to his battered, red Converse.

I stand directly in his way, smiling when he finally glances up.

Lazarus breaks into a massive grin and grabs me into a hug, crowing, "John, old chap, how are you?"

The receptionist scowls a little, probably upset that her limited authority was undermined, but she doesn't argue as Lazarus leads me into the back. I glance down into the bag to confirm the presence of snack cakes. There's a small collection of Hostess equivalents crowded alongside dried meat and a variety of quitting options for smokers. Something's got to be going on.

"What's all that for?" I ask, gesturing at the sack.

Lazarus sighs and gives me a sideways look that screams 'you don't want to know', but he explains it anyway, "Yvette is pregnant again."

I know this story. Yvette's been pregnant too many times to count, but her radioactive power makes it almost impossible for her to carry to full term. She can't get surgery to fix it because her blood would kill her surgeons before they could finish, and Lazarus just heals from any attempts to keep his little swimmers under control.

Miraculously, they had a living child about three years ago that they still can't explain. I haven't met him yet, but I know they're still waiting anxiously to figure out what kind of power will develop. He hasn't shown any signs of Yvette's abilities, so he might very well be chained to the same lonely existence as his father. I know Lazarus is hoping that it's not the case.

"So, where's your crew? We were expecting Red and Abe," Lazarus asks as we reach the kitchen. He starts stashing his purchases, which makes me wonder who exactly they're for.

"They're on their way around. Speaking of crew, where's Torque?" He's always in the kitchen when I arrive, and when I'm here, and when I'm leaving. Torque eats more than a fully-grown African elephant.

Lazarus shrugs lightly, "In Africa somewhere. When we had a run in with his so-called mother, some kind of voodoo witch, he decided to find his roots."

My eyebrows disappear under my bangs. "Voodoo witch?" I ask for clarification. "How does that…" I trail off as Yvette wanders in.

She's got an unlit cigarette hanging off her lip and a small bump showing through her black, sleeveless shirt. Eon figured out quite some time ago that Yvette ages at the half-life of radioactive isotopes. She tried to explain it to me, but I didn't do incredibly well in high school chemistry and it's been a VERY long time since those days. The thing I do understand is that her power is slowly diminishing as she get's older, but her appearance isn't really changing.

Lazarus cautiously takes the cigarette out of her mouth and hands over the nicotine patches and a chocolate cupcake. She takes both silently, barely touching her hand to his shoulder in thanks.

I worry about her, about the toll that losing so many children has taken on her. Over time, she's slowly slid from being tough and take-charge to silent and passive. In certain situations, she can be pushed into her missing attitude, but nobody sees the old Yvette much anymore.

"Hello, Yvette."

"Oh," she stops fiddling with the packaging for the nicotine patches when I greet her. "Hello, wolf boy."

Somehow, I've never gotten past the name 'wolf boy'. I guess it's like Boyscout, it stuck. She doesn't use it often, generally just when she greets me.

"Heard you are having problem with the wolf side," she mentions, slapping a nicotine patch on her upper arm. I don't think she's supposed to use the patch while she's pregnant, but it's probably the least of her worries.

"More than just a problem," I admit. My mind flashes to the blood running off me in rivers in the shower, the complete darkness in my memory of that night. "I'm a little desperate for answers."

My ear perks at the heavy tread coming down the hall. For a brief second, I think it might be Torque, but Red's scent reaches my nose just before his arm slips around my waist.

"Crispy, Yvette," HB greets them casually.

In his wake comes a stampede of Eon's grandchildren. They vary in age from six to a toddling two-year-old. We've only met the oldest, but they've been around so many strange things that a giant, red demon looks more like a jungle gym than a threat.

Maya, the oldest, launches herself at me first, the two younger siblings leaping onto HB's back and trying to crawl up his legs.

"What the hell?" HB grunts as the toddler yanks his tail. He turns and picks the baby up by the hem of her jeans, holding her at eye level. Instead of cowering or crying, she giggles and claps her hands, her golden pigtails swinging wildly in her excitement.

The boy at his feet tugs on his pants desperately for attention, hollering, "Me next! Me next!"

Maya hugs my on my neck. I'm surprised she remembers me, considering the last time I saw her, she was in diapers. "Uncle John!"

"Hey there, kiddo," I say distractedly, watching HB struggle to wrangle the children with more amusement than I should. He's not cut out for kids. He can crush monsters, stop evil plots against the world, and banish demons back into hell, but a toddler is WAY out of his league.

The little blonde snags a handful of Red's sideburn and I decide that it's time to save him from the print-sized 'monsters'.

"Come here munchkin." I take the girl, glancing over at Lazarus as I try to confirm, "It's Eliza, right?"

Lazarus nods.

I shift Eliza onto one hip and hang onto Maya with the other arm. HB raises an eyebrow at my juggling act and I mutter, "I'm good with kids."

We don't talk about the fact that I want kids. It's for the best that we haven't taken a step in that direction, considering the life we live, but it doesn't keep me from aching anytime we leave these kids and go home.

A gigantic shaggy wolf pads down the hall, probably following the trail the children left. At twenty years my junior, Zachary Andrews is still considered fairly young by werewolf standards.

Dr. Andrews adopted Zachary from the Siberian wilderness when he was just a pup. Being raised in England and America gave Zachary impeccable control over his notorious Siberian temper, though he is still a force to reckon with, but not because he could spread Lycanthropy, like me. The Siberian strain is purely genetic, which means that Eon is still very human, but their kids and grandkids have bipedal forms.

Zachary scoops up the boy that's still trying to climb on HB, transferring him from clawed hand to gently gripping his overalls in his teeth. He sort of eyes me like he doesn't approve of me holding the girls. We've always been at odds, but we've never fought. Eon had a bit of a crush on me in her late teens, and I think that's partly where it comes from.

Siberians usually choose their mates when they're just children and follow through once they're older. So, in his mind, I was competition and I don't think he'll ever get over that.

I refuse to acknowledge Zachary's dominant stare, asking Red, "Is Eon already working with Abe?"

"Yeah, they started the minute they got together."

"They'll be at it all night," Lazarus adds absently. He's staring at the door Yvette just disappeared through. As the kids started playing, a pained expression had ripped across her face and she'd excused herself without a word.

Zachary nudges Lazarus with his muzzle and Lazarus takes the little boy from him. "Thanks."

Watching Lazarus rub his face into the boy's stomach to the chorus of giggles, it dawns on me that this is his kid. He's got Lazarus's bright, green eyes and I'm assuming what must be Yvette's natural hair color. Just looking at him, nothing strikes me as unnatural about him. There must be something that allowed him to survive where the others didn't, but it's not obvious. He looks and acts like a normal, three-year-old boy.

"This is Jackson," Lazarus introduces him as he swings the boy upside-down by his feet.

Jackson is squealing wildly with delight, "I'm a tick-tock! I'm a tick-tock!"

Maya sighs at him, the bossy side of her grandmother very clear in the way she corrects him, "You're a clock, Jackson. Tick-tock is just the sound they make." It makes no never mind to Jackson, who goes right on screaming 'tick-tock' until Lazarus puts him down.

Little Eliza taps my shoulder and, in the broken English of a child, says, "Do that tick-tock, please."

Zachary lifts his head from where he's laying in the corner, giving me a warning look. He's normally not so defensive in my presence. A little wary, yes, but not to this degree. Instinct is telling him that something is wrong with me. I can still smell the blood on me from a few days ago and I don't doubt that he can too.

"Why don't you let Lazarus do the tick-tock? I think he's better at it than I am." I set both of Zachary's grandkids on the ground and he immediately lays his head down, but his steely eyes are glued to my every move.

Pressed against my right side, I feel Red tense slightly. The tip of his tail is curling minutely, giving him away. He just might say something to Zachary, so I decide to disarm the situation before it gets bad, "I'm going to go check with Eon and Abe." I kiss Red firmly and pull away just enough to warn him, "Be nice."

Red hangs onto me when I start to pull away, murmuring in a low voice, "He's glaring at you. What the hell's his problem?"

"I smell different," I explain in a whisper against the side of his face, shifting onto my toes so I can get my arms around his neck. "Don't worry about it. He's not going to attack me; he's just concerned about his pack."

"I thought you were part of his pack," HB grumbles.

I smile a little, but I can't force the sadness out of it, "I've never been part of his pack." Our mouths meet and linger, and I slip out of his hold to head for Eon's library.

Zachary follows me.

Before I get to the end of the hall, however, he's disappeared into another room. It's a very definite show of dominance, and a subtle threat. My presence here is making him nervous.

Though I'm older than him, and have a bit more fighting experience, I'm still no match for him. He outweighs me by about a hundred pounds, not to mention the fact that his bipedal form is twice the size of my four-legged version. But something that changed is making me a threat.

The fact that he's afraid of what I might do makes me extremely anxious. I don't think I would (or could) hurt my family here, but there's that chance… If I killed someone when I got out the other day, what would keep me from doing it again here?

I stop to lean against the wall, my stomach churning with uncertainty. Nausea swells as images of blood and gore edge into my mind. I straighten up at the sound of footsteps, turning to meet Zachary eye to eye. He's put on pants since he shifted, for which I'm grateful, but he's glaring me down. I fall back a step in response. Zachary is built like a tank, even pushing fifty-something. He could probably tear my head off my shoulders with one hand.

"If you turn feral with my granddaughters here, I will not hesitate to put you down. Am I perfectly clear?" he growls low in his throat.

"Thank you," I mutter, genuinely meaning it. Frankly, part of me is relieved. If I do lose control, Zachary can (and will) keep everyone safe. He doesn't have the same barriers as HB or Abe would in putting me out of my misery. I hope that's not going to be necessary, but at least I know he's up to it.

Zachary is taken aback by my reaction to his threat. He was probably expecting something more akin to cowering or groveling. His expression completely loses its edge as he repeats, "Thank you?"

"Yeah."

The confusion seems to pass and his alpha side takes over again. "Honestly, John, you don't act like a feral wolf. You don't have any of the habits, the weird ticks that tend to develop. This smells like a totally different animal altogether."

His ears perk just slightly and his body goes rigid. A half-second later, I can hear it too. It's a long, loud howl.

It's a call to arms.

Zachary's icy eyes flick over to pin me against the wall. I thought he was furious before, but this rage is so intense that my blood freezes.

"What did you bring down on us? Who are they?" he roars, slamming my shoulders against the wall.

We're both silent as uncountable voices answer the first call. I can only think of one thing: Demegov's army of wolves. There's not enough time to explain all of that to Zachary.

"Listen to me, get Eon and the kids and get them somewhere safe-" My warning dies off in a groan of pain as he shoves me back hard enough for my skull to crack the drywall.

"Who are they, John? Tell me."

I'm very tempted to grumble something inappropriate about his Siberian-bred attitude, but I bite it back. I've got enough enemies right now and I don't need Zachary to be added to that list. "They're a pack from America someone tried to pass off as my acts of violence. They're puppets controlled by a man named Demegov and they're getting closer every moment," I growl back at him, my temper slipping out of my hold. "So you should probably let go of me and get your family to fucking safety!"

We glare each other down, but I'm the one to break eye contact. I hate being submissive to this pup, but Red is coming towards us and he looks pissed. I have to get this argument over with before my lover beats the living shit out of Zachary. We need him upright if he's going to fight the pack that's coming.

With a snarl, he shoves me a little and let's go. He disappears into the library before Red can grab him.

"What the hell was that all about?" Red asks, checking me over despite my complaints.

I grab his hands so he'll stop fussing over me, "Demegov is coming. People either need to get armed or get out."

"What? How can you know that?"

"I can hear the wolves he's bringing with him."

Another howl pierces our conversation. It's much louder and closer than the first and, judging by HB's reaction, he can hear it too.

"Crap," he groans, pulling out his gun. "You're sticking with me."

I follow him down the hall, trying not to be agitated with his protectiveness, "Red, I can take care of mys-"

He turns on me, his expression so hard and uncompromising that I can't raise my voice against his. I've never had him so mad at me. "I know you can take care of yourself, but this guy is after you, John. I'm not going to give him the chance to…" Hellboy trails off. The hard lines in his face start to soften as we study one another. This argument is as old as our relationship and we've smashed through this verbal path too many times to count. Somehow, this is different. Now I'm being targeted, not just thrown into the violent mix of our everyday life.

He slips a hand into the hair at the back of my head and lays an extraordinarily gentle kiss on my forehead, whispering against my skin, "I want you safe."

I nod mutely. At least I'm not getting shoved into the holding pen with the kids. I've come too far to go back to the days of, "Step back John, you can't handle this (fill in the blank) monster."

On the other hand, if I'd been the 'stay at home wife' like he wanted, I wouldn't be in the trouble I'm in now. I couldn't stand a life like that, but I can see the perks. My mother used to say that I was confrontational. It didn't mean much in a family of people that would all silently sit around and read books during get-togethers. If I said a word contradicting my father's opinion about a show on TV, I was confrontational. If she saw me now, she might call me some stronger words than that.

I trail in my demon's wake, watching his tail twitch apprehensively. He's not worried about the coming fight, I know better than that, he's worried that he'll turn around and I'll be gone. Maybe his fear is well founded. I don't think I'm strong enough to… If I start thinking like that, I'll never make it through this battle.

Zachary is just taking the kids out of the kitchen when we arrive. Someone went and got the receptionist from the front and she's hustling along behind Zachary with the youngest in her arms (she's surprisingly cool for being in a situation that most humans think is monster movie material). They're probably headed to Yvette's room. Since the walls are lined with lead to protect everyone from her power, it's the best stronghold they have.

Eon is motioning orders at Lazarus, Yvette, and Abe. I start translating to HB, "She wants you and me on the front line with Zachary, since we can't be infected. Yvette will snipe them from the roof, using Lazarus as her power source." I wince for Lazarus, knowing how many times he'll die this afternoon. "Abe will be watching their backs and Eon and Rex will protect the children."

As Eon motions at her feet, the invisible beast flares with color. The spines on his body have doubled in number since the last time I saw him and his color isn't nearly as brilliant in his old age, but those teeth are as terrifying as ever. I don't doubt that he can still hold his own.

"Let's go," I say, touching Red's arm.

We stop briefly at the supply room to change our rounds out for silver bullets, and then head outside. I was expecting chaos, wolves scattered everywhere, but everything is silent. I don't let it lull me into relaxing. I can smell the wolves hiding in the shadows; hear their ragged breaths and low growls. They're all over.

"Where the fuck are the bastards?" Yvette's voice echoes across the parking lot, shattering the calm.

They come in waves across the road, slithering out from between buildings and jumping off roofs. There's got to be a few hundred of them.

"Dear God," I hear Lazarus breath, just before every other sound is overwhelmed by the growling, breathing, heart pounding orchestra headed towards us. I barely hear the click as I load a bullet into the chamber. They just keep coming. Has he changed the entire town?

Beside me, Red raises his gun and Zachary rips into his wolf form. I stay human. Something about this attack is making me uneasy. Demegov is not one to lay all his cards out at once. Such a blatant frontal attack screams 'trap' to me.

I focus on slowing my heart and raise my guns as the first of them hit the parking lot pavement. The big grey one in the lead becomes my target. I take aim at his head and exhale as I squeeze the trigger. He goes down like a ton of bricks.

Before I can get off another shot, they're on us. Energy flares from the roof, dropping four and five of them at a time, but it's barely noticeable in the hoard. Zachary digs his claws into a male's jaw and rips it clean off. Blood showers his fur.

I maneuver so my back is against Red's. The wolves seep into the space I left. Bodies pile up around us, but the wolves just crawl over their dead pack members. They're not like anything I've ever encountered before. These creatures aren't real wolves; they're just puppets on invisible strings.

I move my guns in arcs, focusing on the closest. Not every shot is a kill and it's really becoming a problem. The ones I hit in the shoulder, in the chest but not the heart, they're getting up.

HB cusses and slams into me hard. His weight knocks me into the mass of teeth and claws, but before even on falls on me, I'm ripped free of them.

I give Zachary a thankful smile and stick a fresh clip into my gun. We're getting swamped out here. There's no way we can keep this up, they'll just keep coming until we're all dead.

Red's grappling with a wolf that's trying to break its teeth against his stone arm. He's already criss-crossed with claw marks. Unlike Zach and me, he's not healing. I know Red can take a lot of damage, but he's not invincible.

Wait… away from the others, it dawns on me that I'm not getting attacked. I look around me at the circle of wolves. They're completely still, watching me. There's not a single space in their line, not a place I can squeeze through.

"John," Red shouts, but his voice sounds miles away.

I turn to follow the hundreds of gazes. There's a silhouette on the rooftops, barely a spec in the distance, but I know who it is. My guns fall from my slack hands. A shudder rips through me as the heat starts in my shoulder.

"Oh God," slips out of my mouth.

Against my will, my wolf roars up my spine. My muscles tighten to near breaking point. I fight it, but it makes the pain ten times worse. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Red struggling through the masses towards me. I must look pathetic, losing a battle against my wolf. I mouth, 'I'm sorry', because I know I'm gone. Demegov's strings are tightening around me and I'll be just like them.

My mind goes blank just before the fur spreads across my skin like wildfire and the other wolves close in around me.

My brothers.

My pack.

TBC...


	7. Genesis 2:9

HB's not terribly snarky in this chapter… but I guess you can't blame him.

_In the middle of the garden were the tree of life and the tree of the knowledge of good and evil.~Genesis 2:9  
_

- HB

"John! Damn it, John!" I scream as I see him give up. I don't know whether he won't fight it, or if he can't, but I see his eyes turn yellow as he begins the change. He shifts slowly, blood pouring down his shoulder and arm. Demegov's emblem is burning a hole through his shirt.

I try to make it to John before I lose sight of him, throwing wolves out of my way. The more I move through them, the harder they make it. One furry fucker has the balls to stand directly in front of me, growling a challenge. I slam his face into the concrete.

"John!" I call. He's vanished in the pile of fur. I could recognize which one he is if I could see him, but it's like they're hiding him.

Yvette's energy lays waste to the group directly in front of me, giving me a chance to scan the masses. I finally spot Boyscout at the edge of the Society's property. I know it's him because he's got a strip of fur running down his spine that's darker than the rest of him.

He's too far away. I'll never get to him before Demegov does. Damn it, damn it, DAMN IT! I snag a wolf's scruff just before his teeth close on my face and throw him into the others. It only gets me a few feet of running room before they close in again.

There's more howling, but it's coming from a different direction and Zach throws back his head to answer. The howl comes again and five big-ass Siberians barrel into the fight. It's gotta' be his kids.

I don't really give a shit who they are because they give me the chance I need to break out. There's not as many wolves away from the building, so it's a hell of a lot easier to knock them out of the way. Blood's gushing down my back and my leg burns, but I can't stop. I can't even see John anymore. If I lose track of him now, I doubt I'll get him back.

Suddenly, all the wolves fall back. They just sit nearby, panting and growling. I stop in the middle of the street, trying to figure out who flipped the switch. I finger the handle of my gun. I've got two bullets left 'cause I was saving them, but I'm thinking I might need 'em now.

They're all looking up. What the hell are they… I crane my neck to see what so fucking interesting in the middle of a fight. There's a guy in a business suit standing on the roof. 'Scout's perched next to him.

I don't need introductions to know who this asshole is, "Demegov."

His smile is so arrogant it makes me want to shove his face into a brick wall. "Hellboy, is it not?"

"Listen you bastard, you've got three seconds to fix whatever you've done to 'Scout and let him go," I give him his only warning, holding up my flesh hand to count off the seconds.

"Or you'll what? Shoot me with that oversized behemoth you call a gun? You shed my blood and you'll kill this country with every disease mankind has ever known."

Fuck, is that just to keep me from shooting his ass, or could that be true? He is a plague demon…

"You're bluffing," I test to see what kind of response I get. Call somebody out and sometimes they'll react, sometimes they won't. I'm betting I don't get much outta' this guy.

"Why don't you shoot and find out? I doubt even these werewolves could survive what would follow." He holds his arms wide, daring me.

I pull my gun out of the holster and take aim. He doesn't falter. In fact, I think his smile gets just a little wider. He's not bluffing.

I look at John and silently beg him to snap out of it, but it's like the lights are on but nobody's home. If I shoot this asshole and what he says is true, 'Scout will be at ground zero.

I cuss under my breath, trying to keep my cool. Switching tactics seems like a better option than risking all of England, so I drop my gun to my side and ask, "What's a plague demon want with wolf anyway?"

Demegov laughs and pets behind 'Scout's ears. I grit my teeth. It takes all that I have to keep from climbing up the side of the building to knock his ass into next week.

"I know better than to show you my hand now, Hellboy," he says as he plays with the fur under John's chin. "He is so trusting, isn't he? Fool enough to think that Alexia could fix his problems and that you would save him. Naïve, isn't it?"

Son of a BITCH! My gun comes up before I can think to stop, my finger tightening on the trigger. Pain rips across my arm as one of the wolves grabs my wrist and drags me down. The shot goes wild, ricocheting off the bricks. I crush the wolf's snout with my stone hand, but when I look back up, Demegov and John are gone.

"No! John!"

The second I move towards the building, I'm covered in the furry fuckers again. They're everywhere, clawing me, biting me. I'm losing a hell of a lot of blood and things are getting kind of dark. I'm not going to last long like this.

I lose my footing and land hard on the cement, barely managing to deflect a set of teeth from getting to my throat. I've got to get out; I've got to save John.

A yell rips from my throat as one of them makes ribbons out of my shoulder. I return the favor by turning his head into road kill. It's going to take Abe a while to patch me up this time. Shit, I hope they're doing better than I am.

The ground starts rumbling and all of the wolves freeze. I didn't think they could get earthquakes in England, but that's sure as hell what if feels like. It goes from a low vibration to a full-blown quake. The earth shoots up in jagged formations around me, scaring the wolves into turning tail. The road splits open like paper. Sounds like it too.

I roll to my feet, but barely manage to stay upright. It's not because the ground is shaking. Wolves are scattering everywhere, leaving the pack of Siberians panting and bleeding and a Rhino man I've never been so happy to see before.

Torque slams his foot down and rows of jagged rock shoot out of the ground in snaking lines. Don't know where he learned that trick, but its pretty kick ass. Whatever he's been doing in Africa, he's learned a hell of a lot… and gained a huge gut, but you can't fault a guy.

I accept his distraction for what it is and limp in what I hope is the direction John and Demegov went. I have to lean on the wall to stay up. Darkness is swimming in the back of my head. I'm fighting it hard, but I'm not so sure I can keep it at bay.

I can't screw up again! John needs my help… John… needs… fuck, I'm not going to make it. I slide down the wall as my legs give out. The last thing I register is somebody's runnin' towards me. There's nothing after that.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"John!"

I sit up abruptly and immediately regret it. Everything hurts, my ribs, my back, my head. I feel like I got run over by a dump truck. After he ran me down, he had to have backed up and repeated the process a couple times. I haven't been in this bad of shape since… hell, I don't know.

Somebody bandaged me up and dragged me back into the bakery. What's left of my jacket is slung over a chair nearby. It's got more holes than a hobo's socks and there's still blood dripping off of it onto the floor. The puddle underneath it is pretty big.

Doesn't matter. I try to shake off my aches and get up. I only make it a few steps before I hit the floor.

Shit!

I push up onto my elbows and wince. My muscles are like mush, fucking useless. It can't have been long since the fight 'cause I haven't recovered much. I can't wait days or weeks to go after 'Scout, he doesn't have that long.

"I didn't expect you to be awake for hours. You're a tough bastard," somebody says in a heavy English accent. It's a big, burly guy with blonde hair. He's gotta' be one of Zach's kids. I didn't realize he and Eon had any until the pack of Siberians showed up, but I'm not dense enough to write that off as a coincidence.

He grabs my arm and drags me to my feet, helping me onto the bed. I rub the back of my neck and my hand comes away with blood on it. I'm not surprised.

"I've never seen so many wolves in one place," he starts chatting at me. "Dad's in bad shape, but after he eats a cow or two, he'll be fine. You, on the other hand, you took a beating."

I don't need him to tell me that, I can feel it well enough.

"I need to go help John," I grunt and try to swing my legs off the edge of the bed.

Zach's kid swats me, "No way. You've got to recover before you can do anything. You think you'll be any good to him like this?"

"You going to stop me?" I growl at him. I'm seriously considering decking him if he touches me again.

"I don't want to, but I bet I could take you on right now."

Smart-ass.

He's gotta' be at least a hundred pounds shy of me, but he's all muscle. I'm not going to admit it to him, but he probably could kick my ass right now. I doubt I could take on Eon in this state.

"Alright," I break, giving in to the fact that I need to rest. "But I've gotta' talk to Abe. I need to know we're at least on the right track… We need to find Eden."

Even as the words leave my mouth, I realize what an impossible task that is. Eden has been lost since the beginning of time. Supposedly, God erased the way to Eden from the minds of men and set the flaming sword to guard the entrance just in case some idiot stumbled on it by chance.

I'm not worried about the flaming sword for obvious reasons, but finding the place is going to be a bitch and a half. Abe had better have some bright ideas.

I hesitate for a second before holding out a hand to him. He helps me up, but doesn't say anything. It's a wise idea. Any more smart cracks right now and I'll give him a black eye.

He has to haul me down to Eon's library like a sack of fuckin' potatoes. If that wasn't enough to put me in a bad mood, the scene we fall into definitely is. Nobody's got a fucking clue. Abe's theories are completely different from Eon's and it looks like they're arguing over it. I'm only getting Abe's side of the argument, but it's clear enough.

They're just squabbling…

Standing off to the side are Eon's kids and husband. The only female in the group is clutching the children that wanted to play 'jungle gym' on me earlier. They must be hers. Zach's watching the argument intensely, his elbows braced on his knees. There are fresh, pink scars on his face and arms, but they're fading.

On the opposite wall, Lazarus seems lost in thought and Yvette is shredding a cigarette (I'm assuming out of frustration that she can't smoke it). Torque is next to them, leaning on a giant hammer-thing and eating a cantaloupe. All in all, no one seems willing to get the brains back on track.

I slam my flesh hand onto the nearest table, rattling everything out of place. Eon and Abe shut up long enough to give me looks of annoyance.

"Did everybody forget what the hell just happened out there?" I shout at them, my temper flaring. Screaming hurts my ribs, but I need to get my point across. "John is gone! He's gone and he'll die if we can't get our shit together!"

"His death is not a certainty," Abe starts to argue.

I narrow my eyes at him. "Bullshit! That demon said he wanted John's blood, which usually means a hell spawn ritual and a slit throat."

Eon motions at Abe, who translates to me, "She reminds you that even an educated guess could leave us circling an area for days. We might not even recognize it if we do find it."

I know she's trying to control her frustration with me, but I think I've got a little more at risk here.

"Red, everyone cares for John. We're doing everything that we can," Abe chides my thoughts.

Something snaps. "He's MY lover! I know you're concerned for your friend, but I have nothing without him! I let them get away! God… I let him take John…"

I can't scream anymore, can't even stand. I collapse onto the floor and squeeze my eyes shut to block out the room, the world. Everything is falling apart in my hands and it seems like the tighter I try to hold on, the more it crumbles.

It's my fault he's gone. It's just like Dad, like Liz… I wasn't there to protect them either…

A hand touches my shoulder, so lightly that I barely feel it. My first thought is that it's Abe, but I open my eyes to Eon. There's concern hiding in her stern expression. It kinda' makes me feel like the little kid that got hurt doing something she just told me not to do. She makes her signs at Abe and he nods.

"I agree with Eon's assessment. You need to rest, Hellboy. We will need you in peak condition when we fight this demon." He pauses, curling and uncurling his hands, finally adding, "We will find John."

I'm too tired to be pissed off by his hollow words. There's no way I'm going to sit on my ass, twiddling my thumbs while Demegov gets away. Tired or not.

"He could still be in England, if we head to-"

Yvette cuts into my argument. Another country heard from… "It's extremely unlikely he would be near enough for us to catch him. Demons can move through shadows like doors."

"Look, no offense, but since when-"

"It is the truth, whether or not you're ready for it."

I set my jaw to stop myself from saying something stupid. Yvette can knock me cold when I'm in good shape, so I don't want to give her a reason to do it now. Plus, she's got that whole 'pregnant PMS' thing going on right now. Without cigarettes and with her hormones going fucking nuts, it doesn't take much to send her over the edge.

Finally coming back from whatever mental road he was lost on, Lazarus puts his hand on Yvette's arm, "Wait, hang on."

Maybe he's still lost. His brow is furrowed deeply, like he's solving a puzzle. He raises his eyes and meets my gaze, "I think I've been there."

"Been where? What the hell are you talking about?"

"Eden."

The whole room goes silent. Even the kids have shut up, sensing the tension. Abe and Eon trade looks, but its Yvette who breaks the quiet.

"I thought no one had been there since Adam and Eve. Besides, you drank half your brain away in the Middle Ages, how would you even know?"

I want to go over and shake him until it jogs something, but I know it's not going to help.

He gets up and starts pacing, rubbing his temples while he talks, "I was there after all that… I think."

"Good, because if you were hiding another wife somewhere, I was going to have to kill her and you."

Lazarus doesn't even acknowledge Yvette's comment, just goes right on trying to put his memories together, "I remember a pair of trees, one with white bark, and the other so dark brown that it was almost black."

"That would have to be the trees of life and knowledge. They were supposed to be set in the middle of the garden," Abe supplies. "Go on."

Lazarus throws his hands into the air. "That's it! The rest of it is just shadows, like the rest of my memory. You might as well ask a ninety-year-old what present he got on his first birthday!"

"That's it?" I growl. I can't stop my anger, even if it's irrational. "Think damn it! There's gotta' be more than that!"

Even as he's defending himself, something dawns on me. I look over at Abe and he catches my thought, his eyes going even wider than they normally are.

"No, I believe that is extremely unwise," he bites out, taking several steps away from me and Lazarus.

"Abe, he won't remember anything in time. John will die before he can drag that up."

Lazarus has trailed off and is staring at us, probably trying to figure out what the hell we're arguing about.

"Abe, please." I don't resort to begging unless I've got no choice. I'd much rather take the most difficult route than beg to make things easier, but there aren't any other routes right now. "If he knows where to find it, then you're the only one that can help."

"It would be immensely dangerous for us both. Lazarus has so many memories that I would have to push through. There's only so much stress a mind can take," he explains to me in an annoyingly rational voice. The tiny display of fear he had at the idea is long gone. He's back to being his stony-faced self.

I struggle to my feet through a wave of agony and have to lean on a desk to stay upright. How am I going to argue Abe into something he doesn't want to do? When he decides something, he's got an infinite amount of thought behind it. What's wrong with his decision is that it lacks any emotion. All he's got backing him up is facts.

Lazarus makes an argument I couldn't, "Don't worry 'bout causing me any stress. If I can come back from being the walking dead, I'm pretty sure I can come back from whatever you could do to me."

"You were a zombie?" Is the first thing I can say. I should thank him for putting himself out on a limb for John, but I think he knows.

He gives me a shit-eating grin, "Yeah. Got dismembered by Torque and stayed down for over a month."

Torque nods at the statement, confirming it.

"Putting all that aside," Abe cuts off our interlude, "The damage I could do to your mind is not a physical damage. Your ability to recover might not even apply here."

I'm silently hoping that Lazarus can't be cowed by Abe's straightforward, danger bullshit. Behind their conversation, I spot the wheels in Eon's head turning.

Before Lazarus and Abe can get too heated over what Lazarus can or can't heal from, she makes signs at her husband and crosses her arms over her chest when she's done. Zachary translates loudly, his voice full of authority, "Eon can make a device to get in his head, if you can't do it."

Abe takes the bait instantly, his eyes narrowing sharply at the challenge. He wraps his long fingers around Lazarus's skull, and I see the first flicker of uncertainty in Lazarus's face. It's gone real quick, replaced by his eyes rolling around like mad while Abe digs around in his thoughts.

Normally, Abe can glean information off people and objects without touching them, but he can genuinely flex his ability once he's made contact. Maybe it's why he doesn't like to touch things. He's never done anything in my head but scrape the thoughts off the top, whatever's current. I have absolutely no idea what kind of effect that could have on a regular person. Probably put them in a coma, or make them vegetables…

It takes so much longer than I expected. Lazarus starts shaking, but Zach comes over to hold him up. Within a minute, he's carrying all of Lazarus's weight. Yvette paces, but when Torque tries to comfort her, she quickly covers her concern with a leg cramp.

Finally, Abe rips his hands away like Lazarus had burned him, and Lazarus is out. We all wait anxiously for what he's going to say. I doubt anyone's holding their breath but me.

Abe collapses in a chair and rubs his palms into his eyes in a very human gesture. "There was so much… it's no wonder that he chooses to forget most of it."

He looks down at Lazarus with a kind of respect he reserves for heroic acts. When one of the agents literally threw himself in front of Liz to protect her, this was the look Abe gave him. The guy couldn't really appreciate though, since he was in a coma for a month.

"Eden was at the beginning of his memory, a very, very long time ago. The problem we face is that the Earth itself has changed since then. When he was there, it was on a plain with vast rivers coursing through it, but the trees were still young. It wouldn't have been more than fifty years after the garden was created. If you follow science and religion, only God knows where the garden is now."

He can't be serious. After all that fighting, we didn't get anything out of it? "You've got to have something we can use! Come on, Blue, think!"

He goes back to pressing his hands to his eyes and I'm beginning to think he's not going to answer me at all when he finally speaks, "If we know the names of those rivers, we might be able to get a solid idea of where to start looking. I doubt the course of the rivers is remotely similar anymore, but their source seemed to be the garden itself."

Why does this seem like it should be simpler than we're making it? The rivers that well from Eden are known, aren't they?

"Why don't we check the Bible? It could be there, da?"

Abe and Eon are clearly stunned by the absurdly simple answer. I, on the other hand, could kiss Yvette. I won't, because it would be weird and she'd probably kill me, but I'm tempted.

"Yvette, you're a genius!" I crow at her while Eon goes to her shelves.

She shrugs. "Sometimes smart people think too hard about something that's not hard."

Eon throws a heavy, leather bound copy of the King James Version on her desk, along with a massive atlas. With Abe leaning over her shoulder, it's only seconds before they have their answer.

"The Tigris and Euphrates come closest to one another in Turkey. We'll start there."

The whole 'wandering in circles because we're working off a vague idea' thing does cross my mind. "Why is that the best bet?"

Abe turns the atlas around, his finger resting on a mountain range in Turkey, "Because this is the source of the Tigris and very close to what is considered the cradle of life. Once Adam and Eve were thrust out of the garden, it is possible that they made their way into the fertile valley between the Tigris and Euphrates. It's extremely logical."

I don't doubt Abe's logic, but, "I thought the cradle of life was in Africa."

"Different gods, different people," Abe offers, gently motioning at Torque.

I study the rhino for a second. His face is covered in tribal tattoos and he radiates a power he didn't have when he was younger. He's clearly not an angel or demon, but Lazarus said an African witch conjured him up. Maybe there's more than just one creation story. When this is all said and done, I'm going to have to ask Torque what he's learned wandering Africa.

"Alright, we'll have to get Leonitus to clear our airspace and okay a landing strip in…" I take another look at the atlas. "In Malatya."

"I called while you were unconscious. He's just waiting for the word."

"Then give it to him."

With a destination and a plan, I feel slightly more at ease, but it's the kind of ease a criminal gets once he's had his last rights. Sure, something's been done about his soul, but he's still got to make the long walk to the execution chamber. I won't be able to relax until John is home and safe… if he could ever be safe in this line of work.

Shit, Lazarus still isn't up. Yvette is crouched next to him, touching his face lightly, but the rest of us were too wrapped up in Eden's location to notice he hasn't recovered.

"Is he going to be alright?" It's a dumb question, since nobody knows, but asking it seems better than ignoring the fact that he's unconscious.

Abe hesitates, but kneels next to Yvette, his hands hovering over Lazarus's forehead, "He is making his way back, and should be conscious again in a matter of minutes."

It doesn't take minutes. Before Blue can pull his hands away, Lazarus's eyes are open. For a man who doesn't seem to let anything get to him, he looks fucking depressed. Abe poking around in his head probably woke up a shitload of memories that he'd buried for a reason.

"I need a drink," he mutters.

Can't blame him there. In fact, I could use a keg…

Yvette slaps him upside the head, growling, "No you don't. You need to get your ass up so we can go."

She puts her hand on her knee so she can get up, but Lazarus grabs her wrist.

"I don't want you to go to Eden," he pleads softly.

I know this argument, having had it more than a few times myself. You want your partner/lover/spouse to be safe, but when your other half is as stubborn as Yvette, or John, there's not a damn thing you can do to stop them. The only way I'm going to keep John out of harm's way is if I quit the bureau… and I don't know what I could do with myself if I did. I'm not any good at anything but this.

But he would be safe…

With the help of Zach's blonde kid (the one who helped me earlier), I make my way out of the library. However their argument ends, it's not my business. I vaguely catch Lazarus making a point about Yvette's power hurting the baby and everybody hears her scream that it wouldn't matter, that her body would kill it anyway.

I don't envy them. The fact that John and I can't have kids makes things so much simpler. Inhuman power has a tendency to fuck everything up when it comes to passing on your genes. I mean, what do I have to offer the next generation? A skin tone that'll keep them hiding from the world? Horns and a tail that will forever define them as monsters? No fucking thanks. Those things are bad enough for me; I wouldn't wish them on my kids.

Family is the only plus to having brats. I know some people look at it as 'defining their place in history' and all that bullshit, but it's really so you won't be alone when you get older. Except I guess that's not much of an issue if you don't seem to age.

John is the only family I have left and I have to get him back.

"You know, I would hope that you count me as family," Abe's calm, level voice perks up behind me.

I have to smile at his words, but it doesn't stop me from tossing something snide back at him, "You're more like the estranged brother nobody talks about."

"Estranged is a very big word for you, I'm impressed."

"Yeah well, I'm betting I picked it up from you. You should stop wearing off on me or people'll think I've got a brain under all this awesome attitude."

Zach's boy gets me settled in one of our trucks and goes back for my gear… at least I hope he's going back for my gear. He could just be going to take a piss, hell if I know.

My tail curls as Blue pulls back one of my bandages to take a look. "Ow," I gripe at him, stretching the word out so it's more obvious that I'm irritated.

"You are very banged up."

I drop my head back so I don't have to watch him poking at my open wounds. A gash is a gash, but I'm not as fascinated by them as Abe is. "No more than after the squid-god-thing Rasputin tried to unleash. That thing ate me and I still got laid afterwards."

"Yes, well… I thought your first encounter with John was in Venice," he asks offhandedly while smearing something that smells god-awful in a bite on my arm.

It was Venice, and it was fast and messy and fucking amazing. My guts twist sharply at the thought that all of that could be gone. John could just be a memory, like Liz, like Dad.

"You need to stop comparing the living with the dead."

I curl my stone hand into a fist. I'm beginning to understand why Lazarus drinks. He's probably seen countless people come in and out of his life. He's always making new friends, new lovers, knowing that his time with them is fleeting. He'll eventually have to watch them die because they'll never last as long as he will.

What if I am immortal? What if I save John now only to lose him to time later? I'll be just like him.

"Hellboy, enough!" Blue snaps.

I rub my flesh hand across my face, drowning in the possibilities. Abe is scolding me for what's in my head, but I just can't give a shit. "Wake me up when we get to Turkey," I say sharply, letting him know that it'll be the final word.

He doesn't say anything else.

I don't sleep… but I guess that's expected by now.

TBC…

I'm beginning to think that this will be a bit shorter than the first one, but it's quickly becoming a stepping stone to a third.

Hope ya'll enjoyed.


	8. Revelation 20:7

_When the thousand years are over, Satan will be released from his prison. ~Revelation 20:7  
_

- John

It's so dark.

I roll onto my side and pain rips through my shoulder. Warmth rolls down my arm and ribcage; I can smell the metallic edge of my blood. Stronger than that is the scent of ancient earth and water. It's like the air itself is old, like a mineshaft that's been closed off from the world for decades, centuries even.

As my eyes adjust, I realize that it's really not that dark. There's a soft glow floating aimlessly amongst massive shapes that look like columns the size of buildings. In some places, the illumination is almost blue, becoming more brilliant spots of white and red near what I think is a ceiling. What little light reaches the ground is mottled like it's passed through an ocean of water.

Where am I?

Footsteps are approaching. They're muted by the mossy ground, almost too soft to hear. I spring onto my toes, but stay in a crouch, holding my balance with my fingertips. Everything comes into sharp focus as my senses settle and stretch out into my surroundings. My head is strangely clear.

I know, wherever I am, I'm in trouble. My last memory is of HB's face, his mouth open with a yell I can't hear and masses of wolves like a wall between us. I've got to be with Demegov, which means there won't be much I can do against him. As long as he has the mark on my skin, he can control me like a puppet. I wonder if I could gouge it off?

Demegov emerges from the shadows, coming around on the broad pillars. A growl rumbles in my chest.

"Welcome to Eden, John," he says, gesturing widely at our surroundings.

Eden? This can't be Eden. I crane my neck to see the tops of the columns, but they disappear into the darkness what seems like miles above us. One of the pillars is directly behind me. As much as I want to explore, I don't want to tear my eyes off of him. If we're in Eden, then why hasn't he committed whatever ritual he needed me for?

I back up slowly until my fingers make contact with the column. The texture is distinct and heavily defined. It feels like… bark? My god, are these things trees? I can't help myself; I have to turn to get a better look. It is bark, so gnarled and black that the tree seems to be wrapped in alligator hide. I run my fingers lightly over the surface, hissing when a splinter catches in my thumb.

The whole tree seems to groan. I jump away, but my escape is very short. Something trips me up and I fall on my back in the moss. There's a root as big around as an elephant's leg sticking out of the ground. I know it wasn't there before.

While I stare, wide-eyed, a new branch grows out of the tree's side, stretching towards me with clawed hands. My breath hitches. As it gets close, something buds on one of the closest twigs. It swells and becomes a kaleidoscope of color, morphing rapidly through a brilliant spectrum until it settles on a deep shade of red. It's a fruit.

The branch curls slightly, bringing the tempting fruit just within my reach. It smells amazing, like a produce aisle when everything is in season. I can't pin down any one… Dear god, I know what this is.

I pull my hand away from the branch, not even realizing that I'd reached for it, and scramble to my feet. Demegov is laughing at me.

"You're already fully aware of good and evil, so eating it won't do much to you."

"No thanks," I mumble, ashamed that I'd very nearly fallen for the original temptation.

He leans in, a smile on his face like he might eat me, and whispers, "You should see what it does when it gets a mouthful of blood."

My heart drops. But wait, just anybody's blood? There wouldn't be any reason that it would react purely to werewolf blood, let alone mine in particular. Why does he need me?

"What does it do when it gets blood?" I ask, trying to find the last piece of the puzzle.

Demegov goes around me and my heart starts beating again. I turn to catch him slowly sliding his hands over the tree, like they were old lovers. It's kind of weird. He's involved enough that I get a chance to look around for a way out. I'm about as far from an expert as you can get concerning Eden, but I do know that the exit is supposed to be in the east. It's referenced in more than just the bible.

I stay low and move away from him. Glancing over my shoulder to make sure he's still… involved, I duck behind one of the less evil trees and make a run for it. My sense of direction isn't awesome, but as long as I'm moving away from Demegov, I'm happy.

I reach a wall of thick vines that crawl off into the darkness in every direction except to my right. There's a soft red glow so far off that it's almost out of sight, but it's a good bet. I stay at a jog, scanning the ghostly shadows of the trees for any sign of Demegov. He doesn't seem like he's following me. He actually doesn't seem like he's after me at all. Am I missing something?

As the light grows, I pick up my pace. It looks like the pale glow of a sunset or a fire. I'm hoping it's a sunset so I'll be able to disappear outside until I can get some help or establish my bearings. The wall of growth drifts away from the trees and I follow the line. As I round a sharp corner, I realize that the light is not remotely promising.

A massive, armored being is standing in the tunnel like a sentry, with six wings that block the way around him. The orange glow is from the fire that drips off the unsheathed sword he's got planted in the ground in front of him. I careen to a stop just inches from him, close enough that my labored breathing is ruffling the downy feathers where the wings meet his back.

With the sharp sound of metal grinding against metal, the massive figure turns his head. I can't tell whether or not he's looking at me through the dark slits of his helm, but I get the distinct feeling that I'll be in serious shit if he is.

I back up slowly, feeling my way with the soles of my feet to ensure that I'm not going to step on anything noisy. I only realize after my chest starts to burn that I'm not breathing. My silence doesn't seem to matter. He yanks the sword out of the ground and swings it up onto his shoulder, tucking his wings carefully out of the way. The dark slit of his helm seems to hone in on me and his attention isn't a question anymore.

I let the air back into my lungs in a rush that makes me lightheaded. My eyes flick to the thin strips of freedom on either side of him. He can't be too fast. I could probably squeeze past him, but that sword makes me nervous. If I'm wrong about how quickly he can fling that weapon around, he could cut me in two before I get close.

The angel (if that's what he is) flares out his wings and lunges towards me with speed I wasn't anticipating. I'm glad I didn't make a run for it. I barely manage to scrabble out of the way as the sword slams into the ground in a shower of sparks. The heat is so intense that blisters crop up on my leg before the pain can register.

I roll to the side and dig my toes and fingers into the moss for purchase. The blade hisses through the air behind me. My wolf pulses under my skin, but it's given me too much trouble over the past few days to be trustworthy. Without it though, I don't know how I can fight him. I can barely stay a step ahead of him.

White explodes behind my eyes as the tip of the blade catches my side. A yelp rips out of me and I drop to the ground, clutching the wound. I can hear my skin kissing, smell the rancid, stomach churning stench of burned flesh. I have to move! He'll use this moment for the killing blow.

Biting down on my pain, I roll across the moss. The head flows against my back a heartbeat later and I can feel the force of the sword hitting the ground. I've got a second while he's pulling the sword out of the earth and manage to get back to my feet. My side is aching, but not bleeding. It's cauterized. That's good for humans, but bad for werewolves. It'll take me twice as long to heal.

The six-winged angel raises his sword high over his head. It puts him off balance, but it's definitely a blow meant to finish me. I tense to make my move.

A voice cuts through the air, "Akariel, stop!"

He freezes mid swing, which seems like an amazing feat considering the size of his weapon. Nothing moves but the fire. As Demegov comes towards us, the angel adjusts his stance and slams the blade back into the ground, folding his gauntlets on top of the ruby-tipped handle. To have that kind of influence over a being so powerful, Demegov either has one of his symbols on this angel (which I doubt), or he's not what we thought.

Demegov crosses between us, addressing the angel with what looks like a respectful bow, "I brought him here, Akariel. His presence is unfortunate, but required."

Stunned, I watch Eden's guardian return the respect and tromp back to the garden's entrance.

"You're not a demon, are you?" I ask, barely managing to force my voice above a whisper.

His steely gaze lands on me like a hammer, a crooked, knowing smile pulling at his mouth. "If I were a demon, this wouldn't be possible."

I narrow my eyes at him, running my mental encyclopedia of monsters for any ideas. The only thing that fits his interaction with the Seraphim is that he's an angel himself… Can that be right? An angel has boundaries, rules… Why would he attack us? How could he attack us? Veldex was definitely a demon and that would mean that he is aligned with Hell, but the angel at the entrance has no idea.

"You're an angel," I venture.

The way his eyes widen slightly confirms it. His cool composure returns instantly, but I saw the crack in his façade. "I belong to Heaven, yes. Some would argue with you about how angelic I am."

My thoughts are rushing almost too quickly to grasp. What purpose would my blood have to an angel? There are hundreds of thousands of wolves in the world, so why me? The realization comes like a slow dawn, edging across my other thoughts with incredible enlightenment.

"This isn't about me, is it? You're using me to get to Hellboy."

His grin is so wide that his molars glint in the guardian's firelight, "Now you've got it." He turns away, clearly not concerned that I could run off. I'd never get past Akariel.

He continues, "In his true form, Anung un Rama is magnificent. Because of you, his bloodlust came out hand in hand with his destructiveness. And, without you, he will fulfill his purpose. All I need to do is provide one of the doorways and the apocalypse will spill out across the earth and wipe it clean."

"Why would you want that?"

The line of his shoulders gets rigid. He grasps his hands behind his back and I get the feeling I've touched a nerve. "Do you have any idea what it's like to be unable to fulfill your purpose?"

That's got to be rhetorical. I open my mouth slightly, but give up on answering him. There's nothing I could saw that would make him give up whatever vendetta he's holding on to.

"Of course not," he hisses, seeming to get more imposing as he get angrier. "But you will soon enough. You will be the catalyst that changes the world."

My mouth gets dry. I want to scream that HB wouldn't be that way, that he could hold strong against this creature's twisted plot, but I'm not so sure he can. There are very thin ties binding Anung un Rama in his subconscious and if I'm gone, I'm not sure that the others will hold him.

I imagine millions of lives screaming inside a burning city, a cry that's echoed across the world. If Hellboy ever came to his senses, he'd be devastated by what he'd done. Protecting human life is what he has built his existence around, a purpose his father helped him realize. I've brought him off the brink before, but I'm not sure what will happen if I'm the reason he falls off the edge.

Silently, I ask God for a little help, certain He has some stake in these events.

"It took me longer to get my mark on you than I anticipated, but we're making our way forward now. Anung un Rama has his guide and should be arriving shortly."

"What guide?"

Demegov comes close enough that I can see the flakes of gold in his eyes. I try to take a step back, but he grabs the hair at the base of my head and yanks me towards him.

"You have no idea how long I've been tangled in your life."

- HB

My aches are starting to fade by the time we land in Turkey. I'm not a hundred percent, not even close, but I'm strong enough to stay upright. It's all I need to kick some ass.

Abe is at my elbow as we de-board. He's worried and won't fucking shut up about it. I don't bother telling him that I'm not staying on the plane while he and the others play scavenger hunt in the desert. I'm pretty sure he can glean that fact from what I'm thinking.

When I can't take it anymore, I stop and turn on him, "Shut. The hell. Up. I'd rather drop dead on my feet, so can we move on now?"

I stalk off. It takes Abe a couple seconds to follow, but he's completely silent now. I have to squint as we get out of the shadow of the plane. Everything is brighter than I'm used to. As my eyes adjust, I can make out the heavy line of mountains to the east of us. The town we've landed in is a decent size. What's the word for it… quaint, I guess.

The garbage truck is going to be really fucking conspicuous.

"You're right, but we are not going in the truck. Leonitus saw fit to ship us a hummer. It was en route quite some time before us, so it should arrive shortly."

"Good," I grunt, sticking a cigar in the corner of my mouth.

Torque is lugging one of our armory trunks out onto the tarmac. Once he's dropped it and gone back for something else, I slide onto the ground next to the box and lean back against the corrugated metal. There's not a lot to do while we're waiting for the car.

The agents we brought along are securing the perimeter so we don't have a random airport employee stumble across us with a slack jaw. Eon looks like she's drawing a grid on a map. I'm sure she'll have some elaborate search plan attacked to those squares, but it won't be relevant for awhile.

My shirt is wet. I press my flesh fingers to it, bringing them away to rub blood between my thumb and index finger. I must've torn something when I was getting off the plane. When I realize I'm bleeding, my pain sorta' focuses on that one wound. I'm grateful for it. I press my hand to the gash more firmly, letting the pain gloss over my thoughts.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

I must've dozed, 'cause when the plane comes roaring over our heads, the sun's getting close to the horizon.

"Damn," I mutter.

The long ash of my cigar falls off onto my stone arm. It's burned down to a nub and it's the only one I've got. I can't make myself care. I want to, I want to bitch and yell until I'm hoarse, but I've gotta' save that energy for later.

I haul myself to my feet, stifling a groan, and watch the cargo plane screech to a stop. It makes an awkward turnaround to start taxiing back to us.

"You're bleeding again." I turn a glare onto Abe and he changes topics quickly, "We're going to the mouth of the Tigris first. The surrounding area might conceal an entrance."

"As long as I don't have to swim," I let my words drip with sarcasm.

Abe chuckles a little, "I think I can handle any swimming that might come up."

Two military hummers roll out of the cargo bay the moment it opens. The windows are so dark that they may as well be mirrors. These cars are new, probably shipped in from a local base and modified a little. Agent Keeves steps out of the lead vehicle and grins, "Pretty kick ass, huh?"

I stop a foot from him, holding out my hand, "Cigar."

"But what about-"

"Give me a damn cigar," I growl.

I can almost hear 'Scout in the back of my head, scolding me. Be nice. My stomach churns and I drop my hand to my side. Keeves is digging through his coat pocket, but I don't really want the cigar anymore.

I climb into the back of the humvee, stretching my legs out in front of me. Abe, Lazarus, and Torque pile in after me, forcing me to pull my knees to my chest. Pain shoots across my left thigh and my ribcage.

If we get through this, John and I are going on a fucking vacation. I don't care if Leonitus has to shut down half a city to keep things under wraps, but I want to be away from the bureau for awhile. No idea where we'll go, but we're going to go.

"That seems a bit rash, but I suspect that Leonitus can work something out."

"Stay out of it," I grumble at Abe.

We've been butting heads a lot lately. It's probably more me than him. I should get him a rotten egg when we get back, maybe play some cards or something.

"That would be lovely," Abe admits with a tiny smile.

Despite all the shit the last few days have thrown at us, I smile back.

The truck hits a bump as we leave the tarmac and Torque's horn punches a hole through the roof. We all lean forward a little to peer at the ragged rip in the metal. This thing can barrel through gunfire and mild explosions, so that's pretty impressive.

"Did that hurt?" I ask.

Torque shrugs and says, "Not really."

Doesn't surprise me. Torque and I are a lot alike when it comes to taking hits. Difference is if I'm a hummer, he's a tank. He can hit a little harder and take a little more abuse. Either way, when you throw in the fact that everybody else is just infantry, the comparison makes more sense.

I motion at the tattoos crawling up his face, "What's the story behind all this? What'd you learn in Africa?"

He grins like a maniac. The story that follows is too insane to believe. He talks about his brothers and his homeland, about the twisted witch that brought them to life. His abilities were something he had to learn to control, but he can do just about anything with the ground. That's what I saw outside the bakery, his crazy tectonic telekinetic whatever-it's-called. Lazarus throws in the title God of Destruction, which is what the witch called him before he was taken to England as a child.

"We'll have to meet your brothers sometime," I mention offhandedly.

Torque and Lazarus stare at me and I start to think I've missed something. Finally, Lazarus clears his throat, "They're a different story."

I arch my eyebrow, "You don't get along, they're assholes, what?"

"They're not very…" Torque hesitates and scratches the top of his head.

"His brothers are highly aggressive," Abe supplies when Torque can't seem to find the word for it.

Lazarus looks out one of the tiny windows and adds, "More like homicidal."

"Nile's not so bad; it's Sahara you have to worry about. You hear about the lions attacking London?"

I actually had heard about that. The news eventually wrote it off as a rogue group of lions that escaped from a local zoo, but no zoo in the area ever housed a pride so big. "That was him?"

Torque nods.

"Shit, he killed a lot of people," I mutter, trailing off.

Some new conversation starts, Abe asking about Lazarus's kid, and I can't fake interest anymore. Outside, people are staring at our cars as they pass like we're part of a fucking parade. Some seemed scared, others just curious. This little town probably doesn't see anyone from America but tourists, so I guess staring is understandable. Leonitus will have to do some cover-up about our presence here. Military training exercise would be the best excuse.

The buildings start to thin as we reach the outskirts of town. We're going uphill now, must've reached the mountains. The road narrows to the point that one car has to pull over so the opposing traffic can pass. Our big-ass humvees take up the whole road and then some.

"We're leaving the road, so it's going to get a little rough. Hang on," Keeves warns us.

We've already been bouncing all over the cab, so what's the big deal? The first time I slide against the door and pain explodes through me, I eat those words. It's much worse off the road. Humvees have heavy-duty suspension, but these mountains are all rocks. I'm half expecting us to get stuck on something.

We go for miles. I stop wincing every time I tear something open. Abe runnin' into me isn't so bad, but I feel bad for Lazarus. Every time we change directions too quickly, Torque squashes him against the door. I can hear things breaking.

Ahead of us, Eon's car is slowing down.

"Looks like we are not going to need to search too hard, they're coming to us," Abe says quietly, his hand going to his gun.

"What?"

A half second after the question leaves my mouth, a werewolf leaps onto the hood of the humvee. The metal collapses under the force of it and a fracture sprints across the windshield. Keeves yells, going for his gun. Apparently, it never crossed his mind that a military vehicle has bulletproof glass. The shot goes nuts, ricocheting back into the cab. It grazes Abe's shoulder and sinks into Lazarus's chest. Better him than one of us.

"God damn it, Keeves!" I yell and yank the door open.

A wolf lunges for me as soon as my feet hit the ground. I shield my eyes against the sun with my flesh hand, waiting until he's close enough for me to smash him with my stone one. The others scramble out of the car behind me. Lazarus is hacking up blood. He spits the bullet into his hand with a triumphant grin just before a wolf takes him down.

The furry fuckers have swarmed Eon's car. I don't think anybody got a chance to get out. I grab one of Torque's ears to get his attention and point at the mob.

"Let's go," is all I say.

We charge over. He's yelling. We start picking them off, shooting them, crushing them, but it's like there's an endless supply of them. We manage to get one of the doors cleared off and Zachary squeezes out. He slams it shut behind him, catching the arm of a shaggy, gray animal. I grab the wolf by the scruff and toss him to the side.

"We've got to be close if these bastards are here," Zachary says, shifting one hand so he ran rip an auburn wolf's skin off like paper. "You go on, we'll take care of them."

I hesitate, but only for a second. "Watch Abe's back," I order as I work my way through the hoard. A few new wounds appear, but I've already got so many that it doesn't matter much.

It's easy enough to follow the trail of wolves back to the source. They're still coming out of a tiny cave in a trickle. We had to have killed most of this damn pack, where do they keep coming from? He's gotta' be infecting people as he goes.

Something falls on my shoulder and I whirl, my stone hand cocked back to slam whatever it is. Lazarus flinches, throwing his arms up to defend himself.

"What the hell are you doing?" I ask and drop my fist.

Lazarus shrugs, "I think I can be more help to you than I can to them."

"You can't remember jack shit about this place," I remind him.

"Well," he pauses to gore a wolf that was at my back, pulling the sword back to lop of its head. "Maybe something will come to me."

I stare at him with obvious disbelief until he starts to fidget.

"Alright, that's not going t happen, but I least I can watch your arse."

"Arse?"

"Oh shut up. Let's go."

Lazarus leads the way, which I'm mildly grateful for. It's damn dark inside the cave and there are still wolves here and there. They see much better than we do in the dark, but Lazarus gets the brunt of their attacks. As soon as a wolf jumps him, I can haul it off and kill it. His wounds heal much faster than mine can.

As we get farther along, the wolves stop coming. I can hear rushing water. It's loud, but I don't see it.

"That river's gotta' be around here somewhere," I mutter and light a match. It goes out instantly. "Damn."

The tunnel is long and narrow. In the brief moment of light, I hadn't seen any turns. Lazarus stops and I run into him.

"What the-"

"The river, the river is how I got in the first time," he says softly.

Great… swimming. "There's gotta' be another way."

"There was fire at the real entrance," he seems certain now. Maybe he is going to remember everything.

I probably sound smug, but it's the only advantage I've had so far this trip, "I can handle fire."

The tunnel slopes sharply and branches in three directions. It takes me a second to realize that there's light here. We've gotta' be going in the right direction. I narrow my eyes and go to the opening at the far left. The glow is coming from here.

"This way," I tell Lazarus.

Two steps into the branch, I hear a massive crack and the ground shifts under my feet. I look over my shoulder at Lazarus, who's frozen. His eyes lift from the stone to my face.

"Bollocks," he manages to get out just before the rock gives way beneath us.

We don't freefall long, but we land in water. Oh, shit. My stone arm sinks, dragging me down. The current pulls hard at me. When my hand reaches the bottom, I trail along the bottom, knocking rocks and dirt loose. I breathe out the air in my lungs. My chest tightens.

No.

Fuck no!

This is not where it ends. I can't die a hundred yards from the finish line. John needs me. I dig my fingers into the silt of the riverbed, catching a boulder. For a moment, I can't think of what to do. I see another big ass rock in the direction I think (I hope) of the shore. I stretch my other hand out to grab it.

I slip when I go for the next one and the water gets muddy. The current takes it away. Lazarus's hands close on my arm, hauling me along, helping me. We both continue to slide along at the mercy of the current until I get my feet beneath me.

I inhale water. I'm too close to give in now. I fight off unconsciousness and my head breaks the surface of the water. Choking and coughing, I let Lazarus pull me into the shallows. We drag ourselves onto the narrow bank and drop our backs against the cave wall.

"Found it," Lazarus laughs, but it degrades into a hacking cough.

I glare at him.

It's lighter in this part of the cave. It's a weird glow, and I can't figure out where it's coming from. After I catch my breath, I get to my feet, looking both directions down the river. I offer Lazarus my hand.

"Which way do we go?" I ask.

Lazarus takes my offering and I yank him upright, "Well, the river is supposed to well in Eden, so we go in the opposite direction of the current."

Seems logical to me so I start walking. The bank sorta' comes and goes, but we're never trudging through more than a foot of water. I think I've earned some serious sex for this. Sure, I've saved John's ass more than once, but this has got to be the most difficult rescue operation ever. I'm not even sure what I'm going to fight with when we get to Eden, I lost half of my damn gear in the river.

If this guy has left so much as a bruise on John… not that I'd know if he did with the way John heals… No, this guy's caused enough trouble already. I don't care if I get there and they've made fucking amends, I'm going to kick Demegov's ass.

The roof is getting lower. Crap. It bumps against the stubs of my horns a couple times, forcing me to lean over while I walk. The water is coming up the other way, nearly to my knees now. I'm starting to get a little nervous about this.

"You sure we can get there this way?" I ask pointedly.

Lazarus runs his fingers over the roof and shrugs, "When I was here last, all of this was out in a field. Eden was surrounded by a bloody lot of nothing."

When I'm bent almost in half and shuffling through waist deep water that's trying to take my feet out from under me, everything opens up. I duck under the last ridge of rock, and then there are trees the size of buildings. They're spaced far enough apart that you could put a semi lengthwise between each one. It looks almost like an orchard for giants. Not that giants keep orchards, I've fought a few after all, but I've never seen trees this damn big.

Beside me, Lazarus whistles, "This is not the Eden I remember."

"Welcome, Anung un Rama and Keeper," a voice sounds from everywhere and nowhere. I can't pin down the source.

"Who's this Keeper?" Lazarus asks, shooting a glance to me.

I don't know what to say. I study the area for Demegov and for John, sloshing through the water to stand on solid ground. Nothing moves in the trees. I wouldn't expect to find much wildlife in a place like this, but it's too still. No forest is this quiet. Lazarus and I slowly make our way into the garden.

The voice comes again, but this time I'm almost certain it's directly in front of us, "You are the keeper of memories, silent witness to the deeds of man. You will be most important at the end of all things. You are Lazarus, a miracle, a man, and guide to the prince of Hell."

"I'm going to assume that's me," I grumble.

Lazarus hangs a little more on his words than I do, "Keeper of memories? I can't remember what I had for breakfast – who would expect me to retell the deeds of man?"

He doesn't get an answer.

They come into view as we round one of the trees. John is in wolf form, his shoulder dripping blood from that damn mark. He's sitting at Demegov's feet and the fucking bastard acts like he owns him, smiling while he pets John's ears.

"That's the tree of knowledge," Lazarus whispers and motions at the tree behind them. It's so big and dark that I can barely tell that it's a plant. His brow furrows, "But where's the tree of life?"

I don't really give a shit where the tree of life is. Even if it's right where it's supposed to be, it wouldn't be much good. He needs to focus.

Vaguely, I catch the sound of the others. They're shouting and there's a huge thud. Demegov doesn't take his eyes off me. Zachary is yelling orders, probably Eon's orders, and Torque bellows.

"Holy…" Lazarus starts and I have to look.

Torque is wrestling with an angel with six wings. The angel is almost as tall as Torque, heavily armored and well trained. They're matching blows. The angel's sword is on fire, sparking every time it hits Torque's mace.

"Go help them," I tell Lazarus.

He nods and tears off across the garden, though I'm not sure what he plans on doing once he gets there. I turn back to Demegov. He draws a long, narrow blade out of a sheath in his coat and winds his fingers in John's fur.

"Now you will become what you were always meant to be," he says, bringing the knife to John's throat.

TBC…

I promise not to drown anyone in the foreseeable future. I know they've had more than one run in with deep water.

The story is coming close to the end now. Should only be one more chapter before things get wrapped up on this one. I'm almost done with school, so I'm hoping to have plenty of time to work.


	9. Luke 12:5

_Fear him who, after the killing of the body, has power to throw you into __hell. ~Luke 12:5  
_

- John

Being under Demegov's spell is like watching my life through a TV screen from the opposite side of a room that's filled with smoke. I can't think of another way to explain it. I can hear things better than I can see them. Hellboy is speaking, threatening Demegov. Vaguely, I can see his face, contorted with pain and rage. I want to scream to him. I want to tell him not to let Anung un Rama get out. I do scream, and shout, and cry, but my voice echoes in my head. The closer I try to get of the floating images of reality, the more pain sears up my body.

Demegov tells HB that I will help him fulfill his purpose, and I can't take it anymore. I won't be the tool to bring the world crashing down. The agony soars to new heights, but I push through it. I won't be Hellboy's downfall. I won't…

The fog starts to clear. I can see Red standing across from us, his eyes glued to me. Something sharp is pressed against my throat. It's sliding through my fur, the edge catching with new pain. I'm a wolf. Good, I'll need my teeth. I curl my lips and growl. At least I think I growl. My body won't move.

The knife bites into my skin and panic rushes Hellboy's features. It gives me the strength to break through. I twist and sink my teeth into Demegov's arm.

"John, no!" HB screams.

Demegov jerks away. I can move again, but something is wrong, so wrong. The blood burns my throat, my stomach, my nose… It feels like I've swallowed napalm. I look up at Hellboy and whimper before my vision starts swimming.

HB turns to where I hear a fight going on and yells, "Get them out of here!"

- HB

I realize what he's going to do a second before he does it, way too damn late to stop him. What Demegov said in England about the pestilence of the world being in his blood rings in my ears and then John bites him. Demegov stumbles backwards, clutching his arm. I've got a perfect shot at taking him down, but I can't.

I turn to Lazarus as Demegov's blood hits the ground and hisses. It could already be too late, but I yell, "Get them out of here!"

John vomits blood and shudders into his human form. Black spreads through his veins, across his throat and his chest. I run to him, collapsing onto my knees and gently pulling him into my lap. His whole body is shaking. He's practically convulsing.

"Oh god, John," I murmur and push his sweaty hair out of his eyes.

He clings to my arms weakly, coughing. When he looks at me, I can see that the black running in his arteries has reached his eyes. He smiles. There's blood on his teeth.

"It was a deer."

"What?" I ask, not sure what he's talking about. I prop him up a little better and kiss his forehead. His skin is burning with fever.

"When I," John coughs and his blood hits my face. "When I got out… I killed a deer, not a person."

He's dying and he's relieved about not hurting anyone. I would be amused by how Boyscout that is if I wasn't fighting off tears. I can't lose him… I clutch him tightly against my chest and look back at Demegov.

"Fix him! You control these diseases so take them back," I scream.

The fucker grins at me. I'm going to spread those fucking teeth across the garden like seed. "His purpose is coming and soon mine will too."

Lazarus comes running from around the tree of knowledge, something white held over his head, "I found it!"

Demegov and I both turn to him. I have no clue what the hell he's doing, but whatever it is pisses Demegov off. He throws the knife into Lazarus's back and the thing Lazarus had been carrying goes flying. It thumps against the ground and rolls past me by a few feet. It looks like an apple, but completely white. Demegov grabs Lazarus by the hair and drags him towards the tree of knowledge.

"Feed it to him," Lazarus says as Demegov yanks the knife out of his back.

He found it as in it's fruit from the tree of life? That's why this memory is Lazarus's first. This is where he got his immortality. I grab the fruit and bite a piece out, taking it between my fingers. I slip the bite into John's mouth, but he doesn't move. He seems too still.

"No… No, don't do this, baby," I readjust my grip on him and fish the fruit out of his mouth. I chew it into a pulp to force down his throat. John's mouth tastes like blood. The heat is going out of him. My fingers shake as I touch his cheek. I wait. I don't really know what's supposed to happen, but it doesn't seem like anything is.

"Why isn't it working?"

I look to Lazarus just as Demegov gashes his neck open. Arterial spray gushes onto the dark tree in waves. The tree moans, at least, that's what it sounds like. The bark pulses and starts crawling backwards over the tree, leaving behind a black, smooth surface. The blood begins to glow and spreads into symmetrical symbols. The shapes have perfect mirror images on either side of a thick line running up the middle of the tree.

I cradle John while the tree of knowledge becomes a door with demon wings. This isn't like the lock in Russia, this is something else entirely. As a final touch, the trees branches reach down to flank the entrance, sprouting numerous pieces of dark fruit. This is where Hell first took root in human life and this is where human life ends.

Demegov laughs and drops Lazarus, answering my question, "Because the tree of life is meant for men, not monsters. It won't work on him any more than it would on you or me. He's dead, Hellboy."

My heart drops into my stomach. It can't be true. I slide my flesh fingers across John's neck, trying to find his pulse. There's nothing. His eyes are half-open, staring. I slide my fingers across the lids to close them. Rage and sorrow are battling inside me, but I'd rather get revenge than cry.

Gently, I lay John's body in the moss before I take off towards Demegov. He doesn't try to avoid me. I slam him against the tree, pull him away and bash him against it again.

"Damn you!"

Heat spreads down my stone arm and the crevices start to glow. I throw Demegov across the cave, enjoying the way he slides across the ground. I can hear HIM in the back of my skull.

Let me out.

Let Me Out.

LET ME OUT.

I clasp my hands over my ears and scream, "Shut up!"

Demegov gets to his feet, barking with laughter. I want to make him into a fleshy pulp. I charge him, yelling. Again, he doesn't avoid my attack. My stone fist makes solid contact with his chest and he flies into a tree. As his blood hits the roots, the tree starts dying. The bark crumbles off when he leans on it and the leaves start dropping. They turn into ash before they reach the ground. Demegov keeps laughing.

I grab his shirt and pin him against the trunk. I can feel my horns lengthening, but I haven't lost myself yet. I don't want HIM to kill Demegov, I want to. He's mine.

"And when he opened the Abyss, smoke rose from it like the smoke from a furnace and the sky and the sun were blocked and darkness fell upon the earth," Demegov says with a smile, his eyes gleaming green.

I pull back my stone fist for the final blow.

"Stop!"

The voice is so loud that I have to cover my ears. It's like a thousand people talking at the same time, but in such perfect unison that you can't separate them. I've never heard anything like it.

Demegov's face gets pale and his eyes go wide. I follow his gaze just as painfully bright light breaks through the roof. A shadow cuts into the light, descending slowly. I shield my eyes and make out the shape of massive wings.

The angel lands a few paces away. He doesn't look intimidating, but I can feel the power coming off him. He's muscular, smaller than I am and has blonde hair that falls in curls down his shoulders. His right hand is made of stone. It's the same shape as mine, made out of what looks like white marble. I look down at my hand, then over at his. It's no mistaking that he has the same key, but mine looks a bit like a cheap copy next to his.

Everybody I've encountered that knows anything about my arm thinks it's my job to open the door, but I think it might be his. His arm actually looks like it's part of him, not just something tacked on as an afterthought. After all, if you're going to make a prison to keep demons in, you usually don't give an inmate the key.

"I am Michael," he speaks in fewer voices now, his eyes burning into me like coals. I get the feeling that there's not hiding much from this guy. He stares at me as if he's peeling my flesh back to look at my soul. "You cannot kill him, son of the Witch King. He has a purpose yet."

Behind me, Demegov is cowering. I could just hand him over and not make any trouble for myself with Heaven (since I've got enough enemies on earth), but there's just no fucking way I'm going to let this go. I look over at John's still form and grit my teeth.

"No, I'm killing him. You just stay out of my way," I tell Michael, pointing a stone finger at him.

"Your need for revenge will not be forgotten. After he delivers his plagues upon the earth, you may have him."

I blink, "What?"

Hoof beats roll through the garden like thunder. I spin on my heel, looking for the animals. There's nothing out there, but the sound keeps getting louder. What the hell is going on?

"No!" Demegov shouts. "No, I'll have my war! I won't wait any longer!"

He takes off running as the air itself seems to tear open and four gigantic horses gallop after him. I dart in front of the stampede and pull John out of the way, falling back with him on my legs. Lazarus gets up and scurries out of the way as well. Good to know that he's still alive, but it doesn't surprise me much. He runs towards the entrance of Eden, probably to check on the others. I can only stare as the horses rapidly catch up to Demegov.

Three of the horses have riders. The first is a white animal with a skeleton on its back, the second is so thin that every bone shows through its skin and its rider is a veiled woman with a pair of scales. The third horse is bright red, its rider geared in everything from a German gas mask to a medieval sword to the patched together uniforms of various armies.

The last horse is wild-eyed and covered in boils and sores. It runs ahead of the others and its mane shoots out in tendrils to wrap around Demegov's legs and arms. He yells, "It must begin now, the humans are ripe with sin," as the horse pulls him in, his fingers leaving trails in the dirt behind him. The other riders come forward and the one mounted on the red warhorse reaches down to yank Demegov into the animal's saddle. The horses scream and whiney as they turn and sprint back through the rip in, I don't know, our plane of existence? It seals up the moment they're gone.

"Holy shit," is all I can think to say.

Michael scolds me for it, his wings fluffing up in annoyance, "I am not sure where that distasteful phrase came from, but you will not say it in my presence."

"Sorry," I mumble.

Michael looks at me… No, he's looking past me, just over my shoulder. He tilts his head slightly and says in one voice, "Your pair lingers."

He's alive? I stroke John's face, but he doesn't move. "Boyscout? Baby?"

"Not his mortal flesh, his soul," Michael tells me as he goes to the tree of knowledge. Now that it's quiet in the garden, I can hear screams coming through the door. Some are human; others are more like animal howls. Michael places his carved hand on the surface, his wings twitching and flaring as the tree's bark crawls back into place. When the Hell Gate is gone, he turns back to me, "Your pair's soul is lingering. He does not seem willing to cross over."

I dig through my pockets for my spirit stone, a small triangular rock with a natural hole in the middle, but I can't find it. It probably fell out in the Tigris along with a number of other irreplaceable trinkets. I decide to take the archangel's word for it. I don't think they can lie anyway.

"Is there a way to put him back in his-"

"No," Michael interrupts me, "His body would decompose around him."

I wince at the idea, clutching John tightly. I pull him up to hug him. His head rolls on my shoulder. I rake my mind for ideas, a way to keep John here with me. There are a number of ways to bind a soul to earth, but nothing I would do to John. Some part of me knows I should let him go… I tell that part to go to hell.

"John, damn it," I whisper hoarsely, squeezing him. I stroke his hair and press my lips to the side of his neck.

"You have served mankind loyally for decades, son of the Witch King," Michael comments.

I resist the urge to gripe at him for the title he's given me. My father was Trevor Bruttenholm, a man, not some shadowy dark lord from hell. Resisting doesn't work. "It's Hellboy," I snarl.

"You may not be destined to unlock the gates of Hell, as your father was hoping, but you will kill Lucifer in his bed and lead the dark army against Heaven."

I'm so fucking sick of people telling me what I'm going to do. There's always some goddamn prophecy that I'm expected to fulfill when all I want is to be left in fucking peace. I let John go to grab my horns, pulling down on them. Pain shoots through my skull as the horns crack and I snap them off. I throw them aside, glaring at Michael, "No, I won't. I'm gonna' be standing between hell and all the innocent people here on earth. And if you assholes want to get in my way, then I'll fight you too."

Michael smiles, but it looks unnatural on him. "Good," he says, reaching into the air to catch something I can't see. He holds it delicately with his marble hand. "As much as I do not approve of your homosexual pairing with John Thaddeus Myers, his return would be an acceptable reward for your loyalty. If that is what you want."

"But you said-"

"He cannot be returned to his old body, but a new one will suffice."

I press down on my excitement. There has to be a catch to this. Nobody just hands over a resurrected lover because they feel like it's the right thing to do, right? "You can make him just the way he was?"

"He will have all of his memories and experiences intact, if that is what you are asking," he says.

I narrow my eyes. As much as I want to know what I'm getting myself into, I need John. If he wants the key off my arm or something like that, then so be it. I card my fingers through John's gray-flecked hair, "And he'd be immortal?"

"He will be. One of the most foolish decisions a celestial being can make is pairing with a mortal. Watching a lover die of age is not something I would wish on another."

Something in his voice makes me look up. Michael's eyes aren't burning anymore, they're deep blue and staring off across the garden. He's talking from experience. I don't ask. I'm sure it's not something he'd want to share anyway.

I want to trust him…

I kiss John's forehead and nod, "Alright."

John's body gets lighter. I furrow my brow, confused. As I watch, he fades into smoke and dissipates like fog when the sun hits it. My heart hammers in my ribcage. I know it's Michael's doing, but John is just gone. I stand up and try to stifle the strange and sudden fear.

Michael lifts his wings, flexing them fully. They stretch out at least eight or nine feet on either side of him. He moves his hands in front of him, holding them out with the palms up. What he'd been holding was John's soul. I can see it now, but just barely. The wispy lines of his face seem to smile at me.

Small pinpoints of light gather against the soul until it looks like Michael is holding a lighthouse in his hands. The shape fills out and a figure is standing in Michael's palms. The brilliant glow starts to fade into skin, really pale skin. His flesh is flawless. The scars I know by heart are gone.

John's features form. The soft, boyish curve of his face is exactly the way it was when I met him. I step forward, holding my arms out as Michael finishes John. He sorta' floats into my grasp, lighter than he was before. I slide my flesh hand down his back, bracing my stone hand against his hips. His skin is soft. Michael backs away as I survey my lover.

"He's blonde," I mention and Michael shrugs.

"I am not a creator. I did what I could."

As long as he's still Boyscout, I don't really give a shit what color his hair is, but it's going to take some getting used to. John squirms against me and murmurs, "I'm okay." He sits back, a little more coherent, and rubs at his eyes, "Jeez, remind me never to bite another angel."

When he looks at me, he gives me the half grin I'm more than familiar with. It's the 'I know I'm in trouble, but I'm too cute for you to do anything about it' grin. His eyes are bright blue now.

I crash my mouth into his and slip my tongue past his open lips. John winds his arms around my neck, his tongue fighting with mine. After a second, he pushes at my chest.

He barely breaks away enough to groan, "I just threw up, HB, I don't think you want to kiss me."

He doesn't know. I look back at Michael, who shakes his head.

"He will not remember being dead."

Boyscout jumps slightly in my arms, craning his head over his shoulder to peer at Michael. "Who are… I was dead?"

I'm surprised he hasn't noticed he's naked yet. Normally, John's list of priorities starts with modesty then moves on to curiosity. At least there's no one else to see him but the angel. I do distinctly remember Adam and Eve not having a problem being naked in celestial presence until they ate from the tree. I doubt Michael thinks much of nudity. If he did, he would have made John with clothes.

Michael ignores 'Scout's question and opens his wings, "We will return when it is time for his purpose to be fulfilled."

"What? What purpose?" I knew there was a fucking catch! I set Boyscout on his feet and move towards Michael, but he vaults into the air before I can reach him. He's gone in seconds. I shout after him, "I thought this was between you and me, you asshole!"

"Hellboy, what's going on?" John asks quietly.

I turn to him and press my lips together. I consider keeping it from him. Being dead, even if you do come back, can be a pretty terrifying thing. I can't speak from any experience, but I know Liz used to have nightmares about it. (She set our room on fire more than once when we were dating).

Something crunches and John pitches forward with a scream. I catch him right before he hits the ground. "John?" I ask as he clutches my arms. I sit down and lay him across my lap, not sure what's going on.

"My back," he says between gritted teeth.

I slip my arm around his middle and lift him. There are two dark bruises near his shoulder blades. I brush a finger against one and he convulses with a muffled shout.

"Don't touch it."

His skin bulges and I realize what's going on. Michael didn't make John just the way he was. He's not a werewolf anymore, he's something else. John buries his face in my shoulder as a pair of white wings rip out of his back. They're not as large as Michael's wings, but the term 'created in his image' comes to mind.

John pants softly, his breath ghosting across my neck. I hold him while the pain passes. I don't think I can hide the truth from him, it's pretty obvious something happened.

"You died, John. What the hell were you thinking biting him? If he spreads disease…" I'm not sure whether I want to yell at him or fuck him senseless.

"I didn't want him to use me to get to you," John says against my shirt. He sits back and drapes his arms over my shoulders. "He knew that killing me would make you into Anung un Rama and I didn't… I couldn't…" He sighs and puts his forehead to mine. "What am I now?"

"The wings are a big clue," I mention, separating his feathers and touching the hot flesh beneath them.

I may as well have been stroking his dick for the reaction I get. 'Scout arches against me, his eyes rolling back in his head as he moans. I can feel him getting hard. His wings must be really damn sensitive… Oh, I'm going to love this.

I grin and slide my fingers through his feathers, following the line of delicate bone I can feel through his skin. John writhes in my lap. He goes for my belt and yanks it open. He fumbles with the button on my pants.

"I… Oh god, HB…"

"You wanna' do it here?" I ask, smiling. If I can reduce him to being so aroused that he wants to do it anywhere but the privacy of home, I'm going to take advantage of it every chance I get.

In response, John locks his mouth with mine. It's a messy kiss with a lot of wet sounds. He bites my lips and tongue while I finish undoing my pants. His hand delves in as soon as they're open and wraps around my dick. His palm is perfectly smooth, not a single callus to give it texture. Everything about him is new, but familiar.

Shit… he'll essentially be a virgin. If his body is new, then he won't be used to having me in him. We'll need a lot of lube and patience I don't really have right now.

"Boyscout, hold up," I try to disengage from him, but he's making it difficult. John continues to caress me and it takes me a second to remember what I was going to tell him. "We should wait until we get home."

"I need this, Red," 'Scout pants against my mouth.

The words go straight to my dick. I can't wait. I want to, but I can't. I'll just have to be careful.

I rip off my shirt and try to shimmy out of my pants with John hanging on me. He pushes at them, but isn't entirely helpful. I get them to my knees and decide that it's good enough. 'Scout apparently thinks the same because he's grabbed my flesh hand and is slicking my index and middle fingers with spit. He runs his tongue across my knuckles and throws a look at me through his eyelashes. It's about the sexiest damn thing I've seen.

'Scout puts a knee on either side of my hips, leaning in to kiss me. I slide a finger into him without much warning and all of his muscles tighten. His little cry of pain lances me with guilt. I take a deep breath and try to get a hold of myself.

"You still sure about-"

"Just give me a second," he breathes.

I count to ten in my head, something Abe taught me once that I never used until now. Weird, but it helps. I wriggle my finger a little in John's ass, feeling for the spot that makes him crazy. His grimace starts melting, but I hold off on adding another finger.

His wings… his wings are the greatest way to distract him. I don't know why I didn't think of it earlier. I slowly slide my stone hand along the outside of his wing and push another finger into him. He doesn't complain, so I guess it works. His head drops into the crook of my shoulder as he trembles.

My dick aches. Taking things this slowly is almost unbearable, but I'd rather lose my left nut than hurt him. I make sure he's thoroughly stretched before we move on. Spitting into my hand, I slick myself up and lay 'Scout on the moss. His wings stretch out beneath us. I worry about him being uncomfortable on his back, but it doesn't seem to bother him any. 'Scout stares at me, his arms held out with an obvious invitation. I accept it gladly.

This isn't fucking or sex really. I'd poke fun at 'Scout when he called sex 'making love', but this is much closer to his words. I force myself to be gentle, to take things slow. I work my way into him like a snail, mindful of every twitch and noise he makes. He's so much tighter than I ever remember him being. His muscles clamp down on me and I have to bite my lip to keep from slamming the rest of the way in.

I swear it takes me an hour to get inside him. I know it was nowhere close to that, maybe a minute or two, but that's a long damn time when you're as horny as I am. John and I let our tongues fight while he adjusts to me. I break away, locking eyes with him as I pull out. He shoves his hips against me when I thrust back in.

"Come on, Red," John encourages me with a smirk.

Maybe he didn't need as much patience as I thought. I lift his hips and start our normal pace, slamming into him. He winces for the first thrust or two, but eventually becomes his old self. He growls and drags his nails across my back. They're not nearly as sharp as his claws, but there's still that slight edge of pain that I love.

I fuck him hard, leaving bruises on his hips where I'm gripping him. I continue to drive on through his first and second orgasm even though it feels like he's going to squeeze my dick in half. My orgasm starts curling and heating and I rake my flesh fingers through his wings to bring him off again. This time I follow, both of us screaming at the top of our lungs. Wave after wave of pleasure hits me until there's nothing left.

John lets his hands wander over my back and neck while I catch my breath. I stay propped up on my elbows so I don't squash him. When I find the energy, I pull out of him and roll so he's lying on my chest. His wings flare a little before settling on either side of us. I'm starting to think those things are a bit like my tail, not something you think about until you need it. They seem to react to his emotion.

"That was incredible," 'Scout murmurs. He's getting sleepy.

I kick off my boots and try to work my way out of my pants. When John grumbles at me, I stop. The rest of the crew is probably sitting outside, waiting to find out if everything's alright. Instead of sleeping in the garden, we should join them, but I don't want to move just yet.

"John?"

He shifts and sits up enough to meet my gaze, "Yeah?"

"What would you think about retiring from the Bureau?" I ask. Sure, it's blunt, but you don't get too many second chances. I'm not going to look the gift horse in the mouth on this one.

He raises one eyebrow, annoyed, "Just me?"

"No, both of us."

John's silent a long time. He's weighing his options. "Would you be okay with that?" he finally questions.

I still don't know the answer. I might go insane without something substantial to do. All I've ever done is fight what the Bureau told me to fight, I've never known anything else. But I can't lose John again. It hurt enough the first time.

"Yeah, I think I will be," I say.

A slow, sexy smile spreads across John's face, "Then we could give it a try."

I relax and realize how stressed I've been for the past few days. It's like letting out a breath I didn't know I was holding. All of a sudden, the whole world has righted itself. I kiss the top of John's blonde head and squeeze him softly.

Something occurs to me as I'm drifting off, "Oh yeah, happy birthday Boyscout."

He groans, "Don't remind me."

xxxxxxxxxxxxx

End… for now.

Yes, that is actually the end of this one. I've set it up for the third one, which will be called Lines of Darkness and Light. I'm going to try and finish up a few straggling stories in other genres before I come back to it, so be patient.

Otherwise, I hope ya'll enjoyed Between the Lines and a big Thank You to all of those who left comments for me. They're my drive to keep writing.


	10. Update

For those of you following the Somewhere Between series, the first chapter of the final installment is up. It's called Lines of Shadow. Go check it out.


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